


Blood, Fraud & Romance

by Crimson1



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Murder Husbands, Thief Len, vampire Barry, young len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson1/pseuds/Crimson1
Summary: Len Snart is a personal assistant, housekeeper, groundskeeper, bookkeeper—all at the young age of twenty-three.And all cons.Len considers himself a sort of Robin Hood-for-hire, targeting rich assholes who have it coming. Granted, he keeps all the money for himself, his crew, and his employers, but at least they only steal from bad people.Until Barry, who doesn't seem to have an ounce of badness in him. Except for the one thing Len doesn't know about him yet.That Barry is a vampire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At last! This has been grueling, but I am so happy with all the work I've put into this. I hope you all enjoy it too. 
> 
> Meow, I'm sure I was subconsciously thinking of you when I used the Hades and Persephone nods. Love you!
> 
> Enjoy.

Len knocked on the paneling of the wrought-iron doors, trying to peer through the glass. It was frosted, offering no insight into what lay inside. Mr. Allen’s instructions were for him to let himself in, but he still wanted to announce himself.

Hearing no response, Len tried one of the handles, and it gave way with ease.

“Mr. Al—” he cut off with a gape as he entered. He’d known the house would be impressive from the outside, but this was _Real Housewives_ kind of ostentatious, opening into a huge two-story entryway with a grand staircase leading to the second floor.

The décor was antique and modern mixed, with standing radios from the 20s or 30s on either side of the doors, resting atop trendy black and white tiles. Two matching art deco end tables bookended the staircase in similar fashion, sporting their own vintage radios. This guy must be a collector.

Good. That meant there would be even more worthwhile prizes than what Len was there to steal.

“Please close the doors behind you, Mr. Wynters,” a voice called from the second floor.

Len quickly obeyed, noticing how the opaqueness of the glass kept out any natural light from outside. The nearby curtains were closed as well, making it harder to blink upward through the dimness and see his host.

Len had ridden there on his motorcycle to throw off his new ‘client’, so that when his skills proved worthy, Mr. Allen would be that much more taken with him—and easier to con.

Little good that did when the man couldn’t see outside. Len openly gawking around the foyer like an amateur didn't help either. He was twenty-three, not a child. He needed to act like it.

“Mr. Allen,” he said, clearing his throat to start over, “a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I hope you don’t mind me parking my motorcycle in the driveway.”

“Not at all.” He must have seen the bike after all or wasn’t that easily surprised, a somewhat hazy figure descending the stairs until he was close enough for Len to see clearly. “And call me Barry.”

Len nearly gaped again, because _Barry_ was not the old rich guy he’d expected.

First, he couldn’t have been older than thirty. With well-coifed brunette hair, green eyes, and a tall, slender frame dressed primly—and maybe a little ridiculously with a sweater vest and bowtie of all things—which all amounted to a nerdy boy-next-door who didn’t seem to realize he’d grown up hotter than his wardrobe.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Barry smiled warmly and extended his hand.

Crap. Hot _and_ nice. This wasn’t turning out like Len had planned at all.

 

XXXXX

 

“If I can call you Barry, then please, call me Len.”

Attractive _and_ well-mannered. This wasn’t turning out like Barry had planned at all.

Len’s skills and experience had been listed as housework, grounds keeping, scheduling, even personal finance; everything Barry needed in a temporary assistant. He hadn't expected someone so young though, or with such a roguish smile.

Barry never realized how much he’d enjoy closely cropped hair either, almost military short, but Len’s bone structure was lovely, along with his tan complexion and navy eyes, making it only too easy to get lost in looking at him.

Barry had to focus.

“It's cozy in here,” Len said.

“Yes, I keep the house fairly warm, since I tend to run cold. I’m sure you noticed.” Barry waved his hand.

“Cold hands, warm heart, right?” Len flashed his smile again. “Are you an antiquities collector? I couldn't help noticing the radios.”

“A little,” Barry admitted. “I love theater, but there's something special about purely spoken stories.”

“A radio drama fan? That's rare. You must love the surge of podcasts lately. I've been listening to _Welcome to Night Vale_ finally myself.”

“I'm not familiar.”

“Really? Well then, some night after my duties, I'll have to introduce you.” He cocked his head with a stretch to his grin that made Barry forget himself for a moment.

“I-I, um… W-We should…” He paused to collect himself. “How about I give you a tour and then we can discuss your schedule?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Barry led Len into the living room that spanned almost one whole side of the house and connected to the back patio that opened to the fenced in backyard and pool. “I know it's a lot for one man, but I like my space, and I have numerous possessions I don't want to part with.”

“I can imagine,” Len said, looking at Barry's framed photographs on the wall. Barry’s three favorites were prominent: The Grand Canyon just after sunset as the stars were coming out, Time Square in 1957, and one of Big Ben first being built, two-thirds to completion. “This last one must be over a hundred years old.”

“A hundred and sixty, give or take.”

“Famous photographer?”

“Just a family heirloom.”

“I take it grounds keeping will include cleaning the pool?” Len moved to the patio doors and pulled aside the fitted curtains.

“I like to swim at night under the stars,” Barry said, holding back in the shadows, “so it can be your last duty of the day.”

“You only swim at night?”

“I’m a little sensitive to light. That’s why I keep the curtains closed.”

“I’m sorry.” Len let the curtains fall back into place. “History of migraines?”

“It can certainly be a pain. The tools you’ll need are in the pool house but let me know if anything’s missing.”

“Stargazer too?” Len indicated the telescope near the doors.

“Yes, I bring that outside on clear nights. I’m a Pisces myself.”

Len looked at him in surprise.

“Not that I take astrology seriously! I just think it’s fun. Besides, the stars have their own stories to tell, and how people choose to interpret them can be fascinating, don’t you think?”

With his grin creeping up again, Len sauntered closer to Barry. “Pisces, huh? No wonder you like to swim. I’m a Gemini. What’s that say about me?”

Barry felt his face flush as Len drew closer. “Th-that you’re adaptable, curious, witty. You can be the exact person someone needs you to be.”

“Lucky you,” Len said. Then, when Barry stood staring like an idiot, he followed with, “For the job.”

“Right! You’re quite the renaissance man from your credentials.”

“I hope I live up to what you expect of me, Barry.”

Was he flirting? Barry could usually read people well, but then, he didn’t often have them in his home for very long. He must be imagining it.

“Shall we?” Turning swiftly, he continued toward the dining room and kitchen around the other side of the house.

Len followed. “This renaissance man can also cook. Did you want—”

“No need,” Barry broke in. “I order in all my food and don’t eat much. It’d be a waste to have you cook for me. You're welcome to help yourself to anything in the pantry or fridge though, and since you'll be staying over lunchtime, feel free to make requests.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

They came around to the staircase again and headed up to the parlor, which Barry considered the best place in the house to read, since it looked out over the high ceiling down to the foyer. He still had a book resting beside the armchair where he'd been awaiting Len's arrival.

“ _The Tempest_?” Len read the title.

“‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep’,” Barry recited, then chuckled bashfully when Len grinned again. “I, uhh… like to reread classics between new titles.”

“Impressive library,” Len said, scanning the bookshelf behind the armchair.

“That’s just for what I’m currently reading or about to start. The rest are in the real library.” Barry motioned for Len to continue down the hall, enjoying the brief shock that passed over his features.

They passed a bathroom, the office, a guest room, and neared the second guest room that Barry had turned into his library. He’d not only covered every spare inch of wall space with ceiling-high bookshelves but had placed standing bookshelves in rows like a true library in order to hold everything he owned. He rarely got rid of books and kept adding to his collection.

“Wow, _Harry Potter_ next to a first edition of _The Canterbury Tales_.” Len sputtered a giddy laugh as he looked around, but then the humor seemed to leave him, and he frowned as he continued scanning the rows.

“What’s wrong?”

“There's no order to any of this. Not by title, author, genre.”

“I was more concerned with getting them all on the shelves.”

“Is that how all your organizational attempts pan out?” Len smirked at him with something akin to pity.

“I just don't like the tedium of it,” Barry defended.

“I meant no offense.” Len held up a hand with another short laugh, hypnotic really, or magical, because it loosened Barry right up again. “Luckily for you, I live for tedious planning. Shall we move to the bedroom?”

Barry was close to reprimanding Len for such candor, when he realized he meant the _tour_. “Yes! Last stop.” He moved swiftly once more to prevent Len from seeing how red his face had become. He’d avoided real interaction with people for so long, he’d forgotten how to act normal.

Or Len was just that charming. 

The master bedroom was large with its own bathroom, housing a four-poster bed and matching dresser, along with a shelf for his cameras, some modern, some antique, but Barry spent the least of time in that room. It was mostly only for his safe, set into the wall by the closet.

“You know, most people put paintings over those,” Len said.

“I will eventually, I just haven’t decided which one yet. Besides, I wanted you to see it since you’ll be helping me with my finances. It mostly only holds cash and the logins to my offshore accounts on a flash drive. I can’t let you have access to any of that or the safe, but you can see printouts of my holdings once we get to that part.”

“No problem. That’s all I’ll need. Do you only collect cameras or take photos too like your relatives?”

“I take some. Whenever something beautiful catches my attention.”

 Eager to be out of the bedroom given Len’s effect on him, Barry started to lead them downstairs, but Len pointed to the pull ladder at the end of the hall before they got too far.

“Where does that go?”

“Widow’s walk.”

“May I?”

“Be my guest.”

Len pulled the string to bring down the ladder, which was more of a mini staircase and easier to climb. The sun spilled down into a little pool at the base, which Barry sidestepped with a simple pivot. Once Len was almost to the top, he turned back. “You’re not coming?”

“Still a little too bright for me. Go ahead.”

Len shrugged and finished the climb, walking out onto the roof. He disappeared for a spell, but then his voice filtered down. “You should bring your telescope up here!”

“I'm not a fan of heights either!” Barry called back. He could never quite get over that sudden feeling of vertigo when he was high up.

Len soon returned and carefully replaced the ladder. “Do you mind if I go up there sometimes?”

“Whenever you like. Someone should get use out of it. Just remember to secure the door after. I wouldn’t want it to leak when it rains.”

“Of course. No basement?” Len asked as they headed down to the main level.

“No.” At least, not that Len needed to know about.

“Are you sure you only need me for two weeks?”

“We can play it by ear,” Barry said, but he had no intention of extending the contract. Any longer would be too risky. “Shall we plan out your first few days?”

“Absolutely, Barry. I’m all yours.”

Definitely only two weeks.

 

XXXXX

 

Definitely no more than two weeks.

Barry wasn’t like the others Len had conned. Len considered himself a sort of Robin Hood-for-hire, targeting rich assholes who had it coming. Granted, he kept all the money for himself, his crew, and his employers, but at least they only stole from bad people.

Until Barry, who didn’t seem to have an ounce of badness in him and had no idea who he’d just let into his home.

Leonard _Snart_ , not Wynters, who was currently scamming him for every cent in his offshore accounts.

“You got a full tour of the house, know exactly where the safe is and what’s in it, and he’s lax on security?”

“I even know the model number to the safe.”

“Then all you have to do is play it cool for two weeks, and we can make a clean getaway.”

“Yep.”

“He probably won’t even realize he’s been robbed for months with how much he has.”

“Yep.”

“It’ll be the easiest job we’ve ever pulled off.”

“Yeah…”

“You like him, don’t you?”

Len stared at Sara beside him at the table, his best friend and confidant, practically family, who knew him better than anyone—save maybe Ray, the other member to their ‘family’, who knew him even better than that from sheer force of will and prying.

Sara Lance was tiny, blond, gorgeous, but packed a mean punch and knew far too many skills with a blade. She was playing with her knife now, twirling it around her fingers while they talked, the complete opposite of Ray.

“Do either of you know what this cord is for?” Ray called from across the room. Ray Palmer would have been an imposing man if he wasn't tall, dark, and bumbling more than any other adjectives, a creampuff in the body of a bouncer. “I mean, it's HDMI to HDMI, which is always useful, but I already packed the other adaptors except for what I need for my laptop. Although, since I have the others, I can probably get rid of this one.”

“Ray—”

“Only the moment I do, I just know I’m going to find whatever this goes to and wish I still had it. I better keep it.”

“Ray—”

“Of course, if I do realize I need it later, it's not like it's hard to replace—"

“ _Raymond_ , will you shut up?” Sara snapped, pulling him into their close-quartered conversation.

The three of them shared the one-room loft. Charles, who owned Saints and Sinners, the bar downstairs, had a soft spot for them, offering free room and board for doing odd jobs and occasionally bartending or waiting tables.

It had meant to only be temporary, but _two years ago_ Len finished his twenty-first birthday passed out on that floor.

“There might not even be a payday,” Sara said.  

“What?” Ray lumbered over to them, still carrying the cord. “What are you talking about?”

“Lenny’s smitten with the target.”

“I’m not—”

“Ew.” Ray stopped with a grimace.

“It’s not like that. And he isn’t some aging sleaze ball,” Len said. “This one’s different. He’s young and handsome and… kind of stutters when he gets flustered.”

“He’s smitten with you too?” Sara groaned.

“Took to my flirting like he is.”

“ _Len_.”

“What? I've flirted to finish a job before.”

“Not with someone you like.”

Len fell silent. That was their one rule: assholes only.

The three of them had no one else in the world, only each other, grifters since they could fit a hand in someone’s pocket. Well, Len did the pickpocketing, Sara handled muscle, and Ray was in charge of the technical side. They were criminals, they _enjoyed_ being criminals, but that didn't mean they wanted to hurt good people.

“So that’s it?” Ray said, sinking into the chair at Len's right. “No big score?”

“I don't know, but I’m not telling Sam and Rosa Dillon we’re backing out of a retirement sized payday after only one meeting with this guy. Someone this rich has to have skeletons in his closet. Even if it’s also filled with sweater vests and bowties.”

Sam and Rosa Dillon—once Sam _Scudder_ , but with a name like that (and Len could relate), he would have taken his wife’s name too—had come to them with this job, an up and coming power couple in Keystone’s underworld who’d just moved to Central City and who knew of another recent transplant.

It had seemed like a dream come true, a full-blown whale coming into town and bringing a fortune with him. Finally, all the scraping by Len and his crew had done over the years would pay off, and they’d never need to con someone again.

He couldn’t call it quits after one day.

“Aw,” Ray said, bucking Len’s shoulder with his, ever the _toucher_. “You do like him.”

“That isn’t a good thing, Ray. The Dillons are expecting us to finish this job.”

“We could always do it anyway, even if Allen is a nice guy,” Sara suggested, picking at her nails with her knife.

Len and Ray both glared at her. She might be okay with tweaking their morals, but they weren’t.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She shrugged. 

“If Allen’s on the level, we’ll bow out, but the Dillons swore he was a worthwhile target, so keep packing,” Len told Ray, “and start working on how to crack that safe. Barry Allen has to be hiding something.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry was hiding behind the curtains beside the front doors, watching his neighbors walk up the drive to greet Len as he arrived on his motorcycle. They'd been trying to ‘welcome Barry to the neighborhood’ ever since he arrived.

They were a young couple, the wife beautiful with dark hair and skin to contrast her blond, blue-eyed husband. They must be professionals of some sort, always smartly dressed in a pencil skirt and three-piece suit respectively.

Today, they had children with them, twins, he'd guess, about five years old. Barry didn't immediately hear what the couple said to Len, but as everyone was smiling and starting to chat, he grew curious and opened the window to listen in.

“I don't know. I have my own key,” Len was saying. “He's probably not in though. Busy guy. Said he'd almost never be home, which was why he needs my help. I’m sure you'll get the chance to meet him eventually.”

He was covering for Barry even though he knew Barry was home.

“He'll be relieved to know there’s law-enforcement so close by.”

 _What?_ Barry peered harder around the curtain and saw a badge on the husband's belt.

“ _Detective_ West-Thawne, is it?”

“Just Eddie is fine. And Iris is a reporter for Picture News. There isn't much that goes on in this city we don’t know about.” He chuckled.

Barry's realtor hadn’t mentioned any of _that_ , though he had been more adamant about not having neighbors too close, not what they did for a living.

“We've been so excited about someone finally moving into this house,” Iris said, “but he's been a complete ghost. Be honest.” She stepped closer as if to share a scandalous secret with Len. “What's he like? Cranky old millionaire?”

Len laughed. “You know, that's what I thought he'd be like when we first met, but he's young, interesting, charming. Seems like a really nice guy, just private.”

“That's a relief,” Eddie said.

Barry wondered if Len meant all that.

“Dawn! Joey!” Iris chastised her children as they chased each other down the drive and onto Barry’s grass. “This is not our yard. Think of what Mama Cecile would think if you stomped across her lawn like that.”

“It’s okay,” Len said. “I need to mow anyway. How about we agree to not tell Mr. Allen, and I'll give you two a treat?” He retrieved a pack of gum from his pocket, eyeing the parents for permission. “May I?”

They nodded, and Len crouched to the kids’ level as they approached him.

“Shoot, I only have one left, and I was saving it for myself. I know!” He pulled the lone stick from the pack, made to unwrap it, and then—it disappeared with a flick of his wrist, and he began to chew. “You don’t mind getting it slightly used, do you?”

Dawn and Joey glanced at each other curiously.

“You do? Well don't worry, I can fix it.” Len brought his hands to his mouth as if to spit the gum back into the wrapper, then with another flourish of his fingers, the untouched stick reappeared in his grasp.

Barry smiled at the simple sleight of hand that left the children looking absolutely enchanted.

“Brand new. But you’ll have to share it.” Len tore the stick in two and handed half to each twin, who eagerly accepted their treat.

“That was pretty good,” Eddie said, while Iris helped the twins with their wrappers.

“Comes in handy sometimes.” Len grinned. “It was nice to meet you, but I better get to work. I’ll tell Mr. Allen you stopped by.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Len,” Iris said. “Kids, what do you say for the gum?”

“Thanks, Mr. Len!” they said in unison, already smacking their jaws.

“Any time.” He waved goodbye as the family headed down the drive, then turned to approach the front doors.

Where Barry was still hiding!

Like a shot, he raced for the living room and turned on the radio. It was a standing model like the ones in the foyer, but the inside had been replaced with a digital jukebox. Last Barry had used it, he’d been listening to 70s music, and “Crocodile Rock" blared just as Len announced himself.

“Barry! Clocking in for the day.”

“Oh, Len.” Barry feigned surprise when Len appeared at the mouth of the living room. “I didn't hear you drive up.”

“Wow, you’re a bad liar,” Len said, setting his messenger bag against the wall and continuing forward. “You’re welcome, by the way. I got the impression you weren't the ‘play nice with the neighbors’ type.”

So much for performing his own misdirection. “Like you said, I prefer my privacy.”

“That wouldn't have anything to do with them being a detective and a reporter, would it?” Len draped an arm casually atop the radio.

“Would _you_ want that pairing as your neighbors?”

“Not really,” he said with a laugh.

“You’re very good with children.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s easy to be good with them when you can give them back to their parents.”

Now, Barry laughed, completely disarmed around Len in no time, which was a rare experience.

“You might not be a good liar, Barry, but you do have good taste in music,” Len said, tapping his fingers to the beat of Elton John giving way to the Beatles. “Since we won’t be taking a stroll with the West-Thawnes any time soon, shall we talk taxes?”

 

XXXXX

 

Taxes, numbers, probability and projections—that Len found easy. People were complicated.

Planning a heist with a detective and a reporter next door was insane.

Funny how the Dillons never mentioned that. Maybe they didn't know, or maybe they had known and threw Len into the lion’s den anyway.

He tried not to let it get to him, especially in front of Barry, who he was desperately trying to read for signs that he was not what he seemed. Len hadn't actually noticed him listening in to his conversation outside, but he'd heard the way the music blasted suddenly in the living room and took a guess.

Barry was avoiding his neighbors. There had to be a reason besides light sensitivity—if that was even true—or being antisocial. He was friendly enough with Len.

Diving into his second day of work, however, turned up nothing. Barry had an obscene amount of money, but it was all inherited or growing interest. There would be no need for any of his possessions to have been acquired illegally. Len wanted to believe there might be mafia ties or drugs involved, but Barry's only source of income was investments. Nothing shady, other than poor record keeping, which only hurt Barry, not the banks.

The only other possibility, if the Dillons' intel was to be believed, was some sort of John Wick scenario, but Barry was so not the type. His inability to take care of his affairs properly kept coming across as endearing. The only bad things about him were his disorganization and terrible sense of fashion.

Today, it was a suit vest over a button-down shirt, like he should have been wearing a blazer and working in an office, but instead, he was reading in the upstairs parlor with his feet up, which were currently encased in bunny slippers.

“Please tell me those were gifts,” Len said, emerging from the library. 

“No.” Barry pouted. “Why? They're comfortable!”

“I’m sure they are.” Len grinned.

Barry grew flustered then and dropped his feet to the floor. “What are you holding?”

“I was cleaning the library and found this with the non-fiction.” Len held out _Dante’s Inferno_ , which had definitely been entertaining to find in non-fiction.

“I was… going to properly re-shelve it later?”

“Barry,” Len scolded, reminding himself of his strictest teachers—before he dropped out of high school, “we went over this. Keep doing that and you’ll be back to square one the moment my contract is over. Now, come with me.” He grabbed Barry’s hand, pulling him out of the chair to wobble after him.

“Where are we going?”

“Teach a man to fish,” Len said, dragging Barry to the library. “Now, put it where it belongs.”

“I’m not a child,” Barry huffed, wrenching his arm from Len’s grasp.

“And yet.”

A moment passed of tense electricity between them, but Len had been warring against Sara and Ray’s stubbornness for years. Just because this was a con didn’t mean he didn’t take the job seriously.

Finally, with another huff, Barry snatched the book from Len’s hands and shelved it in the fiction section under D, since they’d agreed that titles made more sense than authors.

After a pause, Len plucked the book off the shelf again to re-shelve it over a spot. Barry had placed it between _The Dark is Rising_ and _The Da Vinci Code_ when it should have gone before both.

Maybe because he was still grinning, Barry started grinning too, and the next thing Len knew, they were laughing.

“What about this one?” Barry accused, picking up a book Len had set aside. “It’s out of place too.”

“That’s because I was going to ask you if I could borrow it.”

“You like Greek mythology?”

“There’s something about the fantastical that grabs my attention.” It was one of the few subjects in school Len had enjoyed besides math, and math he’d improved upon after dropping out, not that any of his credentials alluded to his GED.

“What’s your favorite myth?”

“Hades and Persephone, no contest.”

“Kidnapping and forced marriage?” Barry scoffed.

“I prefer the modern retelling where it’s a love story about two very different people striving against all odds to be together.”

Barry blinked, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Can you… tell it to me?”

“‘Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, dear?’” Len quoted, watching Barry’s eyes widen. “And Persephone said, ‘No. You haven’t seen mine yet’.”

The library was a whole guest bedroom in size, but it felt like a closet then, as if all the shelves were closing in to push them together.

Len hastily stepped back. He had to be more careful. Flirtations were one thing, but he couldn’t allow more. “A full retelling would take time. I should get back to work.”

“O-of course. Maybe as a celebration someday, after your two weeks are up. I was always partial to Cupid and Psyche myself.”

Oh, he did not make this easy.

“In the meantime, take it.” He handed Len the book.

“Thanks. I’ll bring it right back. I just want to page through it off the clock.”

“No. _Take it._ Keep it. I prefer celestial bodies over heavenly ones anyway. Call it a gift.”

He made this impossible.

“There really isn’t anything indecent about you, is there?”

Barry startled, and no wonder, because Len hadn’t meant to say that. “I-I-I…w-well…”

“Thanks for the book, Barry.”

“Yes. My pleasure.”

Len couldn’t do this. He had to see Sam and Rosa Dillon.

Tonight. 

 

XXXXX

 

That night there was a clear sky, truly breathtaking, prompting Barry to bring his telescope onto the patio as soon as the sun set—and after Len had left for the evening.

Barry was used to being alone, but as he found his favorite constellations in the sky, he kept turning his attention toward Gemini, wondering if the stars would be lovelier with company.

Len had only been on his payroll for two days and already he was getting used to having him around. Loneliness was like that, like hunger: easy to ignore when he had nothing, but getting a taste made his appetite snap its jaws like a ravenous wolf. And Barry gave into his wolf enough already.

Still, the solace of the backyard seemed less satisfying. He used to tell himself that he was never alone if he had the stars, which was probably why he hated thunderstorms. The constellations made him believe there might be something beyond him, maybe not God or Fate, but something more to the universe than years on Earth and conquests made.

If it was written in the stars, maybe there was a story amongst them he hadn’t yet read.

Len was a story to be read too, but Barry knew he couldn’t grow attached. He shouldn’t. Not when it all eventually had to end.

“It’s mine!”

“Now it’s gonna be mine. Hand it over!”

“No!”

“I said, hand it over!” the second voice came louder.

Another story was unfolding now, and Barry put thoughts of Len aside as he stepped from his telescope. There was silence, then a whimper, a sniffle, and finally, the sound of rushing feet. The owner of the first voice was running away, leaving the other behind.

Slowly, not wanting to make any noise himself, Barry approached the right gate. The left opened onto his driveway, the right toward the wood.

He opened it, his eyes piercing through the darkness. The running feet were moving north back toward the city, but beyond the tree line was a shadow, moving slowly east, away from Barry’s neighbors and their young children. Good.

Barry gave chase, brisk but quiet, keeping track of the shadow. Even as he moved further from the lights of his house and backyard, he zeroed in on the figure that took clearer shape in front of him the closer he got.

A man, haggard and bent, dressed in rags, carrying a knapsack that had recently belonged to someone else. He also carried a knife. He was a vagabond and a thief, willing to kill to take what little someone else had for his own. And now, he was completely alone.

Perfect.

 

XXXXX

 

Len hit the ground hard, the left side of his face exploding in pain after the brutal punch he’d just received.

Perfect. That was going to leave a mark.

Mark Mardon, Sam and Rosa Dillon’s top enforcer, reached down to grab him by the scruff of his jacket, hoisting him back to his feet. Their other muscle, Shawna Baez and Roy Bivolo, looked on ominously, while the Dillons stood further back wearing cold, satisfied smiles.

“Wait!” Len cried when Mardon reared back for another punch.

He paused, waiting for Len’s excuse.

Len struggled to think of one, but the bruises forming on his face were answer enough. “Rough me up too badly and Allen is going to get suspicious.”

“Let him go, Mark. He has a point,” Rosa said, beautiful in a vicious way, like the prettiest of vipers, next to her equally vicious husband. Len hadn’t seen it before. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d been too focused on the potential payoff. “Now that you’re talking sense again, I trust you won’t say anything else as foolish as wanting to get out of our deal?”

Len staggered as Mardon released him with a shove.

“She asked you a question, Snart?” Sam pressed. “Do we have a problem?”

Len had gone to see them at one of the clubs they frequented. He’d expected they’d bring one of their bodyguards along, but he should have rethought his words as soon as all three followed them into the back.

“You said Allen was bad news,” he challenged anyway. “When I agreed to this and told you my crew and I only steal from people who deserve it, you said Allen was the perfect target, but I haven’t seen anything to prove that’s true.”

“So?” Rosa sneered. “This is the type of score underlings like you can only dream about, and you’re moping about morals?”

“Our intel says he’s dirty,” Sam said in a bored tone. “That’s all you need to know.”

“In what ways? How do you know? Who—”

“You’re asking too many questions,” Bivolo snarled, the least threatening physically, but also the most unpredictable with his eyes always bloodshot

“Allen—”

“Won’t notice the bruises on your _friends_ if we take your insolence out on them,” Baez warned with a menacing tilt of her head.

Len shut up.

They’d been so stupid to get into bed with these people without realizing that the real bad news was them. Was Len merely blind to Barry’s true nature too? He couldn’t be sure, but he also couldn’t risk his friends.

“Are we going to have any more problems, Snart?” Sam asked again.

Len had intended to bring up the West-Thawnes, but he didn’t dare voice that now. “No.”

“Good.” Sam nodded at Mardon, who moved too fast for Len to backpedal, and suddenly, a fresh punch struck him in the stomach, nearly dropping him to his knees.  

“Bet Allen won’t notice that one either,” he sneered and gave Len’s cheek a condescending pat.

Len recoiled, slinking away slowly at first, then hurrying out of the room when they made no move to keep him. He beelined through the club for the street, fighting the bile that threatened to escape after that last punch. He couldn’t deal with Sara and Ray’s reactions to this, not tonight. He hadn’t told them he was going to see the Dillons. He’d have to stay out, go for a walk, tell them not to wait up, and sneak inside after the lights were out. If he was lucky, he’d wake before both of them too.

Len had to finish the job, sooner than two weeks if he could.

Even if Barry was hiding something, he didn’t want to con him any longer than he had to.

 

XXXXX

 

Barry didn’t want to con Len any longer than he had to. Len was good. Thoughtful. Personable.

Attractive…

Which was why he noticed immediately when Len strolled into the kitchen the next morning wearing a pair of sunglasses as if trying to hide his face.

“Brought in your paper. Shall we see what the stars have in store for Pisces today?” Len said, grinning as if nothing was amiss. “Here we are. ‘The moon meets Pluto and opposes Mercury, stirring up intense emotions you want to get off your chest.’ Well,” he glanced playfully over the top of the paper, “I'm all ears.”

“Your eyes.”

“I said ears.” Len grimaced.

“Len…”

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you wearing those indoors?”

“It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry—”

Barry snatched the sunglasses from Len’s face before he could retreat, adamant because he knew Len was lying; he knew something was wrong. He could practically smell it, like a tinge of copper close to the surface.

Then he saw why as the light caught the fine contours of Len’s face. Dark bruises were forming around his left eye and cheekbone. 

“What happened? It looks like you got into a fist-fight.”

“You wouldn’t believe I’m the type to do that, would you?”

“Then why hide it?”

“Because it’s embarrassing. I took a tumble off my bike, but I’m fine. Luckily, I was wearing my helmet.”

“Who’s the bad liar now?” Barry shot back, and Len sighed, looking utterly defeated, but he still didn’t explain himself. “At least put ice on it.”

“I did that last night.”

“You should do it again. It’s still swelling.”

“I need to get to work. The schedule—”

“Can be adjusted. Now, stop stalling.” Grasping his hand like Len had done to him yesterday, Barry forced him onto one of the stools. Len didn’t fight him.  

After setting the sunglasses aside, Barry gathered ice into a dishtowel, twisted the end of it to hold it in place, and returned to rest the cloth over Len’s bruises. Len reached up to take it from him, and there was a spark, like a shock of electricity where their skin touched.

“Must be those cold hands of yours,” Len said with a shudder. “Or your electric personality.”

Barry snorted and sat back on the stool beside him, allowing Len to take over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t.” Len closed his eyes, relaxing into the ice.

“Okay.” Barry had no right to pry, but he couldn’t help the worry he felt. The thought of someone hurting Len intentionally made him want to hunt that person down like…

Well, best not to allow anymore unplanned detours.

“You're wearing a bowtie again,” Len said after a few quiet moments.

“Yes.” Barry glanced at it, red instead of the yellow one he’d worn on Len’s first day. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No.” Len was fighting what looked like a genuine smile finally. “It’s fine, just a little… dated.”

“You mean old fashioned.” Barry frowned.

“Well, unless it’s black and accompanied by a tux, yeah.”

“I’ve seen plenty of fashionable young men wearing bowties.”

“They're not fashionable, they’re hipsters.”

“You're terrible.” Barry gave way to a chuckle, unable to maintain his frown when Len had so much warmth in his eyes. “Is it really so awful?”

“No. Some people can make it work. I just think you'd look better without it.” Len reached out, hesitated a moment, but then finished the trek to tug on the end of Barry’s tie. He had very deft fingers, only being able to use the one hand, and had it undone in no time.

Barry’s eyes never once left Len’s. They were warm indeed, and he felt that warmth wash right through him.

“Magic,” Len said, pulling the tie from Barry’s neck, rolling it in his hand, and then—poof—it was gone.

“Better?” Barry said, nodding at his attire.

“You could stand to lose the sweater vest too.”

“Sounds like you're trying to undress me.” Barry laughed, then realized what he’d said with a start. “I-I mean…”

“It’s okay,” Len saved him, smiling softly as he pulled the tie from his lap to set it on the counter. “Technically, I was.”

Barry glanced down at the tie between them, if only to get the heat in his cheeks under control. “Shall we see what it says for Gemini?” he said, reaching for the paper. “Let’s see… ‘Break out of any restrictions that might be keeping you from doing what you want. Things should naturally flow your way, and you should be in a good mood for most of your waking hours.’

“What do you think?” Barry risked a glance up again, finding Len’s expression stoic. “Len?”

“Sorry. It’s just hard to believe you're for real sometimes.”

“I’m hardly a saint.”

“You sure about that?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“At this point, I'm having trouble finding evidence to the contrary.”

Barry felt his cheeks redden again. “Well, while you try to find my faults, why don’t I make you some coffee, and we can multitask by going over those itemizations you wanted to start today.”

“Deal,” Len said, smiling again, if a little somberly.

“And I’m sorry if I was a little rough earlier.” Barry nudged Len’s sunglasses across the counter.

“Why don’t you keep those for when the light bothers you? I don’t really need them.”

“Really?” Barry had never owned sunglasses, a little charmed by the thought, and picked them up to try them on. “What do you think?”

“You could still stand to lose the sweater vest.”

Barry laughed and swatted Len’s shoulder. He supposed it had been a while since he’d rethought his wardrobe. As they chuckled, he set the sunglasses down again and started to fuss about the kitchen to make coffee.

He wasn’t what Len thought, but it was nice to have him look at him like he was.

At some point, they discussed Barry’s holdings and property ownership like the schedule dictated, but he wouldn’t have been able to say at what time they left the kitchen.

 

XXXXX

 

Everything revolved around Len's kitchen—or Barry’s lately.

He'd rather be in Barry’s right now.

“You idiot! Why the hell didn’t you take me with you?” Sara griped, having finally heard the news about last night and getting a look at Len’s bruises. The ice had helped the swelling but not the ugly colors.

“It was a show of faith. I showed faith, and they showed me what a dumbass I am.”

Ray snickered, handing Len a glass of water and some painkillers. They were gathered around the table again, since there weren’t many other options in the loft. They rotated between sleeping on the bed, the pullout, and the recliner.  

“Company wouldn’t have changed anything,” Len continued. “There were three of them. Five counting the Dillons. I’m lucky I only got their fists, but I’m not taking any more chances. I don’t need you two looking this pretty.” He sneered as he swallowed down the pills.  

“We could split town,” Sara said. “Or take the money and then run.”

“I’m not looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.”

“And we’re supposed to only steal from the _awful_ rich,” Ray protested, “not sweet, blushing, perfectly nice—”

“I did not say blushing,” Len broke in.

“Swooning?”

“I said stuttering.”

“So, he’s not blushing or swooning?”

“He’s… both. A little,” Len admitted.

“Great,” Sara groused. “Maybe try not making him stutter and blush and swoon, because odds are, you’re still going to have to rob him or we’re all dead. Even before we knew about your brilliant house-call last night, we were already worried about the Dillons when Ray overheard a little rumor from the new waitress.”

“What rumor?” Len pressed.

“Nora,” Ray said dreamily, then snapped back to attention. “Um… remember how the Dillons were in Keystone before?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Nora said she heard that in the last couple weeks, basically around the same time they moved here, there have been increasing missing persons reports and a mutilated body found last night.”

“ _What?_ ” Len paled.

“It’s pretty gruesome.” Ray had his laptop on the table and turned it toward Len. “Someone got pictures and posted it all over online.”

The images on the screen made Len’s stomach churn. He couldn’t even tell that it used to be human. “Shit.”

“Nora didn’t mention the Dillons outright, but the timing’s a little too perfect.”

“We’re not only dealing with scumbags,” Sara reiterated, “we’re dealing with murderers.”

“Can’t something go our way?” Len scowled.

“Is this a bad time to mention I’m pretty sure I know how to crack the safe?” Ray said.

Len turned his scowl on him.

“It, uhh… has an electronic lock, so all you’ll need is a specific kind of magnet. I already ordered one.”

“Peachy.”

“Anything else you haven’t told us, Lenny?” Sara asked.

Len all but bit his lip.

“Len.”

“His neighbors are a cop and a reporter.”

“Fuck!” Sara cried. “We are so crashing and burning.”

“No, we’re not. I’ll get us through this. I’ll finish the job.”

“But you’re going to give yourself up if you keep falling for this guy.”

“I’m not falling for him, he’s just…easy to like. It has to be a lie though. The Dillons still said they’d heard he was dirty. There has to be something I’m missing. Maybe he’s just a talented actor.”

“Sure, buddy, maybe,” Ray tried to be supportive, but Sara shook her head.

“I wish you sounded like you believed that.”

“Forget the Dillons,” Len said plainly. “Start looking into Barry. Find me something. Anything. He can’t be as innocent as he seems.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry was not as innocent as he pretended. He should have let Len go after two weeks. He should have let him go sooner. But they were halfway into week three, and he still didn’t want him to leave.

It couldn’t be his imagination that Len seemed relieved every time he asked for another extension.

“Comic books?”

“Yes.”

“You've invested $20,000 in comic books?”

“They're collectables!”

Len blinked rapidly as if to avoid rolling his eyes.

“Is it that bad?” Barry asked, deflating in his seat.

They were in the upstairs office at Barry’s hand-carved desk, Len in the roller chair, while Barry sat in the antique straight-back he’d pulled over from beside the large globe that opened into a hidden liquor cabinet. Most of Barry’s possessions weren’t from extravagant spending though, just treasured favorites he’d had for years.

The comics, on the other hand…

“If you invested for enjoyment and like every single issue you own, that's your prerogative. If you invested for future gains, most of these are worth pennies now.” Len gestured at the computer screen listing Barry's impressive collection, which he currently had in storage but was hoping to move into the library soon.

“They're all really good!” Barry said. “Most of them.”

Len stared at him patiently.

“Some of them. What's so terrible about comics anyway? You're young. You still like them, don't you?”

“You’re not that much older than me, you know.”

“I’m… older than I look,” Barry said, averting his gaze to the floor. He forgot sometimes how young Len was, given how good he was at his job.

“I like comics fine, Barry, but they're not a sound investment. You hired me to help organize your life. That includes investments, and comics are speculative at best, tricky to manage, far from liquid, and rife with fraud.”

“Sorry. I'll stop buying so many.” He just had a habit of clinging to the rare occasion when something modern struck his fancy instead of something from the past.

“It's your money. You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I'm giving you so much work to do!”

“That’s what you pay me for, remember? But no more binging.”

“I promise. I just wish I wasn't so bad at this.”

“You’ll learn. Or keep making excuses to keep me longer.”

Barry looked at Len with a start. He was grinning, only joking, but he didn’t realize how right he was.

A chime at the door interrupted anything else they might have said.

“I'll get it,” Len offered, like he always did, rising from the desk to head downstairs.

Barry followed a moment later, swift and stealthy so Len wouldn’t notice him, and hid in the dining room to watch.

“Mr. and Mrs. West-Thawne,” Len greeted at the door. “Always a pleasure.”

 _Them again._ They never took the hint.

“Hi, Len.” Iris smiled.

“We’re so glad we caught you,” Eddie said, all smiles and friendliness too. “Is Mr. Allen in?”

“Just missed him. Maybe next time.”

Len never said otherwise, even though Barry hadn’t asked him to lie.

Eddie held a nondescript box and lifted the lid to show off a pie—coconut cream, Barry would guess. “We made one too many for the station’s potluck today. It’s meant for both of you, if you’ll take it.”

“Thank you. I’m sure Barry will appreciate the gesture once he gets home.”

_Doubtful._

“We also wanted to drop off your invitations,” Iris said.

“For what?”

“Our annual barbeque.” She handed him two handsomely scripted envelopes. “One for each of you.”

“I’ll pass on the message. Barry’s still so busy, though, he might not make it.”

“We hope he’ll make an exception,” Eddie said. “I can’t believe we still haven’t met yet. We know you’re scheduled to end your time here soon, but you’re more than welcome to come to the barbeque even if your contract’s over by then.”

“It definitely will be. I’m already over-staying my welcome.”

“Nonsense,” Iris said. “Mr. Allen clearly doesn’t think so if he keeps requesting you longer. Maybe this could turn into a full-time position.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. I have another contract starting soon. I really can’t stay after this week.”

Len had been saying that since last Friday, that he couldn’t extend his time too many more days or his other employers might give him the axe, but Barry was still torn. He knew the danger increased every day Len was with him, being in his home, a part of his life, wedging into his heart, but the unique hunger Barry felt around him wasn’t going away.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so drawn to someone.

“Seriously, Len, think about it,” Eddie said, stepping up to the threshold to speak more hushed, even though, as far as they knew, there was no one to overhear them. “With all the missing persons lately, we worry Mr. Allen might become a target living out here alone in such a nice house with so much…stuff.” He eyed the lavish antiques visible from the foyer. “It’s not quite public yet, but… we found another body.”

Having a homicide detective next door was troublesome, but it was sweet that he seemed genuinely concerned for Barry, even if that concern was misplaced.

“You can relax, Detective,” Len said. “The security around here has been one of my top priorities. Thanks for the pie and the invites. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”

Eddie nodded with clear disappointment, then scrunched his brow before stepping back as he looked once more into the foyer. “He really keeps it dark in there, doesn’t he?”

“You get used to it.”

“The West-Thawnes again?” Barry said as soon as Len closed the door, stepping from the dining room.

“They brought pie this time. Dastardly of them, wasn’t it?” Len said, taking the box past Barry into the kitchen with the invitations balanced on top.

“You can go if you like. To the barbeque.”

“With you? Maybe you’ll luck out and it’ll be a cloudy day.”

“No thank you.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to invite them over for dinner.” Len opened the box on the kitchen island and moved to grab a knife—then changed his mind and grabbed a fork instead. “Or even a conversation.”

“What are you doing?” Barry ignored his comments as Len bent over the box.

“Are you going to have any?”

“No.”

“All right then.” Len dug in, taking a large bite with his fork and licking away the cream that caught on his lips. “Delicious.”

He really would be…

“May I ask a question?”

“Huh?” Barry straightened, torn from his staring. “Certainly.”

“Agoraphobic?”

“No,” Barry said with a laugh. “I love open spaces. I go for walks all the time.”  

“I’ll have to take your word for it. So, you only avoid people?”

“I avoid the sun.”

“Then invite your neighbors over for dinner.”

“I’m… not good at connecting.”

“You connect fine with me.”

“It’s harder when there are more.”

“You mean crowds?”

“Why so many questions all of a sudden?” Barry groused. He kept eyeing Len’s renewed forkfuls with envy, but pie wasn’t what he wanted.

Len didn’t answer him but took another generous bite, chasing every morsel of custard and cream and holding Barry’s gaze as if daring him to drop his eyes to his lips.

Barry dropped them to the counter. “I move so frequently, it gets harder as I get older to say goodbye.”

“No family or friends and no desire to make any. Sounds lonely,” Len said, foregoing his fork finally and taking a large swipe at the top of the pie with his finger, drawing Barry’s attention again as he brought it to his mouth.

“Sometimes…”

“Maybe some unexpected connections could be good for you.”

“Yes… Maybe.”

“Like dinner.” Len took another swipe and popped it into his mouth again.

“Or that finger.”

He froze, eyes snapping up, finger still caught between his lips.

“I’m sorry!” Barry jerked upright, having sunk to his elbows while watching Len. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. You should go,” he rushed on when Len opened his mouth to speak. “It’s been a long day. But you’ll…come back tomorrow, won’t you?”

Len huffed a shaky chuckle but nodded. “I can, but we have to wrap up. I’m committed to that other offer, and I’ve already been postponing—”

“I know. End of the week? Through Friday? Please, we still have so much to cover.”

“Okay. I can make that work.” He closed the pie box, taking the fork and one of the invitations. After setting the fork in the dishwasher, he made a show of sticking the invitation to the fridge.

“Point taken,” Barry said, not that he had any intention of making nice with the West-Thawnes once Len was gone.

Gone…

“And Len,” Barry added when he made to leave. “If Friday’s going to be your last day, maybe you can finally tell me your version of Hades and Persephone. Or we can listen to that _Welcome to Nightingale_.”

“ _Welcome to Night Vale_ ,” Len corrected with a smile. “And sure, why not? See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Barry said, wishing he could hold off the end of the week for as long as possible.

 

XXXXX

 

_End of the week. Final warning._

Len noticed the text message as soon as he pulled up to Saints and Sinners. He knew he’d been stalling, hoping to stumble across some vice or evil deed to justify robbing Barry, but they’d found nothing. At first, it had been easy to make excuses, because Barry was the one requesting an extension, but the Dillons wouldn’t hold out much longer.

Worse was that it was only getting harder to be around Barry, their flirting becoming more blatant even without trying. Len certainly hadn’t meant to be so obscene with that pie, just like he didn’t think Barry had meant to imply he’d enjoy licking it off him.

Maybe.

Len shouldn’t be pushing Barry toward a friendship with a detective and a reporter though. They were nice, wholesome even, but not stupid. They might figure things out before Len made his getaway. He just hated the thought of Barry being out there all alone after he left.

Shaking his head, Len shoved his phone back into his pocket without answering. He’d deal with them later.

The pie probably hadn’t fared too well in the compartment of his bike seat, but it would still taste good, he figured, as he retrieved it and headed into the bar. Ray and Sara were in their usual booth, waiting for him. Nora was at the table, a pretty little thing with dark hair. Ray was smiling dopily at her while she took their order.

Poor thing; she had remarkable patience, since Ray tended to fawn without ever making a move. She always made a point to be their server though.

Len started toward them but hadn’t taken more than two steps before a pair of rough hands seized him by the shoulders, and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the men’s room. The pie thudded to the dirty floor, as Len was slammed up against the wall.

“Hey there, Lenny. Having trouble getting your text messages?” Mardon yanked him forward to slam him back again, turning his vision spotty when his head made impact.

“I-I… I got the message!”

“You didn’t answer, and that got us all concerned.”

“I was driving!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Mardon made to yank Len forward again, but Baez and Bivolo came up on either side of him like a silent warning to pull back—Good Cop, Bad Cop, _Worse_ Cop, only Len didn’t know which was which.

“Next time you get a message, answer,” Mardon said, making a show of smoothing out Len’s shirt for him.

“I thought compliance was implied.”

“Or you’re chickening out,” Baez said. “With the way you’ve been stalling—”

“That’s Allen’s fault. I can’t let him grow suspicious. Timing is everything. The neighbors—”

“We don’t care about the neighbors!” Bivolo barked. “You knew there’d be risks. You agreed to this job as soon as you heard the price tag.”

“Because I didn't know who I was working for!” Len growled.

Mardon made to grab him again, but Baez moved in faster, suddenly going from being at Len’s side to on top of him with her forearm pressed to his windpipe.

He wanted to thrash back, kick at her, ram his head into hers, and fight like hell, but that momentary surge of panic and rage was squelched by common sense. The missing persons reports kept getting worse, a new body found each week, and it would be too easy for him to become the next one.

“Now, now, Lenny boy,” Baez warned, “I thought we were friends.”

She laughed, and the other two joined her. 

“Do your job, Snart, and we won’t have to get _friendly_ again,” Mardon said through dwindling chuckles, while Len fought to take a deep breath with Baez’s arm still pressing on his throat. “You'll get your cut. Five percent.”

Len coughed and wheezed when Baez suddenly released him. “It was… supposed to be ten.”

“Consider it an inconvenience fee,” Bivolo said. “Take any longer, and the next thing we’ll be _cutting_ into will be a lot more personal.” He pulled a switchblade with a jarring snap.

They laughed again and finally moved for the door, Mardon making a point to step on the pie box along the way. Bivolo left last, barely bothering to put his knife away before passing a bystander in the hall.

Sara. _Shit_.

If Len hadn’t locked eyes with her, he would have stayed in the men’s room longer.

“Five percent?” she said once they were alone, Len having kicked the pie box out into the hallway, too upset to pick it up.

“Five of what Barry has is still retirement money.”

“Len—”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You keep saying that, but then why do you look like you’re still having doubts?”

Because he’d just been threatened by a knife, and Barry would have no idea how to handle people like that. Len wasn’t filled with doubt; he was filled with resolve. If he didn’t finish the job, Sam and Rosa might send those three.

Besides, Len used to think he’d do anything to get out of Central City and live easy, but he'd do worse to keep his life, even if it meant betraying a good man.

“He’s decent. Sweet. Just isolated. I can’t help feeling bad for him.”

“You be sure and tell that to Bonnie and Clyde’s cronies when they’re breaking Ray’s legs.”

Len winced. Then sighed.

“Lenny, you can’t.”

“I know. I just wish things were different.” He bent to pick up the pie box finally. “Guess I should throw this away.”

“What is it?”

“Coconut cream from the oblivious neighbors.”

“Ray will eat it.” She offered a wry grin, and Len chuckled despite himself. This sucked, but at least he had his friends.

“Come on. Instead of the quiet evening I promised him, I have two days to convince the world’s biggest homebody he needs to go out Friday night.”

 

XXXXX

 

“Out? With you?” Barry blinked at Len, forgetting tact or subtlety whenever Len flirted with him—which was often—but especially when he stood so close, eyes flicking down and up Barry’s body with promise.

“We can still talk myths or listen to _Welcome to Night Vale_ when we get back.”

“I-I…”

“Please?”

Oh, that word was unfair coming from Len. “I… suppose I do need to get out more.”

“Really? I mean, great! Here I thought I’d have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy going out, I just… feel safer at home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Len grinned at him.

Barry blushed at the sentiment, even though needing protection wasn’t the problem.

“We’ll do something simple with minimal forced mingling, I promise,” Len said, holding Barry’s tablet with his calendar open.

They were in their chosen chairs in the office again, where Len had been helping Barry move his entire datebook to digital.

“How about a movie or a show?  We can get cocktails first, with a late dinner afterward. I’ll keep my own drinking to a minimum and even DD.”

“You mean drive us? On your _bike_?” Barry leaned back, torn between excitement and concern at the thought of holding onto Len during the trip, feeling his pulse thrum beneath his hands and through their connected bodies.

“It’s invigorating. You’ll love it.”

“I… guess that could be fun. Okay. It’s a date.”

Len startled, and Barry worried he’d said the wrong thing. He knew they couldn’t be more than what they were now, that he couldn’t give into their flirtations beyond a night out, but was it so wrong to want to pretend for a little while?

“I-I’m sorry. I meant—”

“A date,” Len said. “Definitely.”

Len handled everything, like always. Cocktails first at a bar near the theater, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ playing, which was one of Barry’s favorite plays, then dinner at a nice restaurant down the block, all close together downtown so they could walk between locations, and easily escape when they were ready to go home.

Len even chose something for Barry to wear.

“Are you sure I don’t need a tie? It’s the theater!” Barry said when he came out of the bathroom the next evening dressed in black slacks, a green button-down, and a charcoal grey sweater. With the black and grey peacoat, it was all very fashionable but still seemed too casual for a night out.

“No tie,” Len assured him. He looked sharp as well, in dark jeans, a blue sweater, and a heather-grey blazer.

For their date.

“I can’t believe I’m finally going to see you eat.”

“I… eat.”

“Never in front of me.”

“Well… tonight will be a first for many things then.”

Len gazed at Barry like he was trying to take him in and memorize how he looked. “Come here, Barry. We have time yet, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

He grasped Barry’s hand, and for a moment, Barry thought he was going to kiss him right there in the bedroom, but then he pulled him into the hallway, hanging on tight when he tugged on the cord for the ladder up to the widow’s walk.

“Len…”

“Here. I grabbed these from your dresser.” Len handed him the sunglasses he’d given him. “And the sun should be mostly set by now anyway.”

“It’s not only that. I really don’t—”

“Just this once. I promise I won’t let you fall.” Len grinned cheekily, and Barry scowled at him for the jab but allowed himself to be led up to the roof.

The light was still a little much, making him grateful for the sunglasses, but the sun had dipped low enough below the horizon that it cast beautiful colors across the sky. Since they stayed near the hatch, he didn’t have to look out over the side but simply watched the sunset while clinging to Len’s hand.

That seemed to be what Len wanted, because he turned to Barry, remaining close at his side.

“Once upon a time,” he said, “Hades was on Mount Olympus for a yearly council with his brothers. On his way home, he took the long route along a winding path down the mountain. He liked the gardens there, mostly because no one else ever frequented them, so he could enjoy their color and beauty without anyone gawking at him. No bloom he’d ever seen, however, was as beautiful as the goddess he found there that day.

“‘What are you staring at?’ she asked, catching him off guard, completely unafraid of him, but also unaware of who she was speaking to. Persephone was in a foul mood after having a fight with her mother, who’d forbidden her from leaving home. Willful and proud, she’d snuck out to the gardens anyway.

“See, Persephone was all grown up and wanted freedom, but her mother still treated her like a child. She wanted to run away for good but had nowhere to go. She told Hades all this, still not knowing his name, just needing someone to listen to her.

“‘You can come home with me,’ he offered, utterly captivated by this fiery flower he’d found. ‘It’s not beautiful where I live, but your mother could never reach you there.’

“Persephone, finally and truly looking at Hades, realized how beautiful he was in turn and couldn’t imagine such a handsome god living anywhere that wasn’t remarkable, no matter what he said, so she agreed. She got so lost in talking with him during the long trek down the mountain that she didn’t realize they were descending all the way into the Underworld until they came to the river Styx.

“‘You’re him. You’re Hades,’ she said. ‘Yes,’ he answered, assuming their time together would end now that she knew the truth. ‘Would you like to go home?’ But she surprised him. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ ‘Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, dear?’ he asked. And Persephone said, ‘No. You haven’t seen mine yet’.”

Len’s smile was soft, maybe even sad, as he returned to the quote he’d first told Barry of that story. The space between them kept shrinking, Barry drawn in and certain that Len began to tilt his head closer too…

Len’s phone erupted, causing Barry to snap back. He was still holding Len’s hand, but he had to release it as Len pulled out his cell phone.

“What is it?” he answered sharply, his smile completely gone now, and his expression only dropped. “Tonight? I was on my way out… No, I understand. You’re right, I did promise. I’ll see you in twenty.”

“Something wrong?” Barry asked when he hung up.

“I’ve been helping some friends with moving plans, and I guess this is the only night they can pack up the heavier stuff. I promised to help and—”

“Oh,” Barry said before Len could finish.

“I’m really sorry, Barry. You should still go. Enjoy your evening. I’ll reimburse you for my ticket—”

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure I can find someone to take it at will call. I wouldn’t want all your hard work getting me out of the house to go to waste.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Len said, seeming more upset than Barry was, which he decided to take as a compliment. “I’ll call you a Lyft and make sure you’re safely on your way before I head out, okay?”

They left the roof and waited in the foyer for the car to arrive.

When it did, Len opened the front doors for Barry and joked, “Are you sure you're not a ghost haunting this place and you can't actually cross the threshold?”

Barry smirked at him and made a grand show of walking out of the house.

“I stand corrected,” Len said, locking up behind them. The driver was waiting. Len’s bike was waiting that Barry wouldn’t be getting a ride on after all. “Goodbye, Barry,” he said.  

Barry wished that didn't sound so final. “Promise me, before you start that other job, you’ll come back sometime and finish telling me that story?”

“I promise.”

 

XXXXX

 

_I promise._

It wasn’t the first time Len had lied to Barry, but it hurt the most.

He took a different route than the Lyft driver, making sure it was well out of view before he parked his bike away from the house in a place he’d chosen earlier. He walked back by cover of nightfall so there was no chance of Iris or Eddie seeing him.

He’d stashed the needed supplies in the foyer closet, in a backpack he’d told Barry was his change of clothes. It had been, but it also contained the tools he needed to complete the job.

Len had hours to get everything done now that Barry was out of the house, but he planned to be swift, if also careful. He’d leave no trace of the theft or his presence there once he was gone, and maybe Barry wouldn’t ever find out. He’d wonder, though, what became of Len Wynters when he never heard from him again.

Len ditched his blazer but took the gloves from his bag. He’d memorized everything he’d touched in that house, so he knew exactly what needed to be wiped down before his escape. Even if he missed something, it wouldn’t be enough to trace back to him. Len _Wynters_ didn’t exist.

With the curtains drawn, Len hardly had to be careful with his flashlight as he moved through the house. First, he’d remove his prints, since that would take the longest, and as he did, he also claimed several priceless trinkets Barry had forgotten he even owned until Len cataloged them. Once that was done, barely an hour having passed, all that remained was the safe.

The only thing Barry hadn’t entrusted to Len was the combination, but he’d given his whole life over to him otherwise, never once doubting that he could trust him.

Ray was right; the magnet opened the safe in seconds. There was hardly any challenge to it, no obstacles, just the ever-widening chasm in the pit of Len’s stomach that worsened when he found an unexpected item amongst the others.

It was a photograph, beautifully shot in black and white, of Len on the back patio looking out beyond the fence. Len had no idea when Barry had taken it, though he had to have done so from one of the windows. He must have been embarrassed and stashed it as a memento.

 _Whenever something beautiful catches my attention_ , he'd said.

Len felt two inches tall, but he had to push past it.

He put the picture back and grabbed the flash drive. All he needed to do now was copy it onto his laptop, and he could put it back, so that if Barry looked in the safe any time soon, he wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

Len also took one of the stacks of cash for travel money. There were so many in the safe, Barry wouldn’t notice that either.

He opened his laptop on the bedroom floor to start the transfer, but just as he slid the flash drive into place—a car pulled into the driveway!

Len stiffened. The lights were off inside the house; it couldn’t be Iris and Eddie checking up on Barry when it looked like no one was home.

Snapping the laptop shut, Len shoved it into his backpack along with the cash, but he put the flash drive in his pocket, not wanting to risk it getting crushed. There was no time to replace it now; he'd have to bring it with him.

After closing the safe, Len hefted the backpack over one shoulder and padded quickly from the room and across the upper floor. Below, in the foyer, the front doors opened. It had to be Barry, but it had only been an hour.

Len heard Barry's voice though, and then he heard a _second_ voice just as he reached the parlor.

“This place is amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m very happy here. How about we have that drink on the patio, and I can give you a tour later.”

“You mean up to the bedroom?”

“Wherever you want,” Barry answered tellingly.

 _Barry_ , who'd brought a man home and was getting him a drink, inviting him upstairs, only an hour after he and Len almost…

Len shook his head. He had no right to be upset. He’d ditched Barry. He was betraying him right now. But it still hurt that Barry could move on to someone else that same night.

Their voices drifted from the foyer into the living room, and Len hovered near the stairs. Once they were outside, he could leave right through the front door.

“I’m glad you came out tonight,” the other man said.

“So am I. I had other plans, but once those changed, there was only one thing on my mind.”

“Using me to get back at someone who stood you up?”

“Oh no. Trust me, I would never have done with him what I’m about to do to you.”

Len was halfway down the stairs when Barry’s voice trailed off after saying that. Barry didn’t even sound like himself. Had Len read him wrong? Was this the real Barry Allen he’d been waiting to find to make robbing him easier?

It didn’t feel easier…

Len kept going. He could still hear them out on the patio, the door left open, but they were definitely outside. He should go. The front doors were right there. But as he stood before them, his feet turned toward the living room instead.

He passed the radios, those old photographs he loved, even one of Barry’s horrible cardigans draped over a chair.

No, that was the sweater he’d been wearing tonight.

Nearing the patio door, Len could see them, half through the open door and half through the glass on the other side. Barry was missing his sweater all right and starting to pull the tails of his shirt from his slacks as he crawled into the lap of the man sitting in one of the patio chairs.

Barry _prowled_. Len had never seen him prowl. Or kiss someone. Or touch anyone but him, allowing this stranger to get very handsy on his ass and up the back of his shirt. The way Barry writhed into those touches caused spike after spike of ugly jealousy to tear through Len.

It shouldn’t matter. He was always going to leave. Nothing could have happened between them, and if he’d let something happen, he’d still be leaving. He couldn’t change that.

But he also couldn’t stand the sight of Barry kissing another man, in his lap like that, tipping his head back to lick up his neck, and then—

Tearing into his throat with his teeth until blood gushed out.

Len froze. Blood, there was so much blood suddenly, but Barry was quick to lap it up and not let any go to waste, as the man tried to struggle, tried to push him off, but Barry held him down with no effort at all and _drank_ until the man’s eyes glazed over and he grew still.

The missing persons, the bodies found, it wasn’t the Dillons.

It was Barry.

Len backpedaled into an end table in his haste to get away, and Barry’s head snapped around, catching him standing there. His face was entirely different twisted into an animal snarl with yellow eyes that glowed and fangs dripping blood onto his chin.

Two terrifying seconds passed with their eyes locked, and then Len bolted for the front doors.

 

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd swap to the robot one after this chapter, but I don't think so anymore. This one has my full attention. 
> 
> But I promise, when this story is done, Robot Barry will be next. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Barry was a vampire. Barry was a _vampire_.

Len had never run so fast in his life.

He still had his backpack, the flash drive in his pocket, heart hammering thunderously, as he ran and _ran_ and finally saw salvation—only to be seized two feet from the doors and whirled around so fast, he thought a tornado caught him. He was up against the wall in seconds, being held by his throat, feet dangling.

Then the backpack fell with a thud, and the stack of cash he'd taken spilled out onto the tiles.

Barry was going to kill him.

"You were _stealing_ from me?" he roared, yellow eyes blazing in the dark of the foyer.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry!”

“It was all a lie?!”

“You were going to kill me!” Len defended. The blood still stained Barry’s fangs and mouth and shirt…

"Not you," Barry said—soft suddenly, like he was hurt Len would think that, like he meant it, even enough that his eyes dimmed and changed back to green. "Never you."

"But you killed _him_ ," Len said lamely, noting that while his feet touched the floor again, Barry didn’t release his neck.

"I had to. I _have_ to. When the hunger gets too bad, I... But not you. I wouldn’t have ever hurt you."

"Wouldn't have..." Len repeated. “But I stole, and I saw you, so… now?”

Barry’s eyes flashed yellow again, and Len shook so hard, he almost vibrated.

"Tell me _why_ ,” Barry demanded.

"I-i-it was just a job! What I was hired to do. Before I met you. Before I knew you! Please…”

"Before you knew me…” Barry said, soft again. “Then why did you still do it?"

"I had to,” Len echoed Barry’s words from before. “They would have killed me and my friends. Ironic now....”

“Friends?” Barry spat in distaste.

“I won’t give them up,” Len said firmly. “I don’t care what you do to me!”

The silence that followed was worse than Barry's snarling. He just stared at Len—with those eyes, those fangs, the blood. Len could see it dripping onto the black and white tiles, making especially prominent splashes on the white.

But just when he thought his number was up, Barry's eyes turned green again, and his fangs retreated, vanishing like a magic trick.

“What will you give up?”

“What?”

“Will you give up your employers?”

Len blinked at him mutely.

“You said they would have killed you if you refused them. So, tell me, who—”

“Sam and Rosa Dillon,” Len said in a rush.

Now, Barry blinked mutely.

“I can give you the names of the others who work for them. I don’t owe any of them anything. They haven’t been friendly since I tried to back out.”

“You…” Barry's grip loosened somewhat. “Your eye. That was them?”

“Yeah. And a few bruises you didn’t see.”

Barry’s expression softened like his tone, and slowly, his hand dropped away.

Len turned his head toward the doors. “Does that mean—”

“No. You don't get to just leave. Not after what you saw. Not after what you did.”

Fighting down the fresh tremors that caused, Len looked back slowly. “What do you want then?”

"You're my assistant, aren’t you?” Barry said with a cold stillness overtaking the softness. “Add _groceries_ to your duties. Starting with the people who hired you."

Len didn't know what to say. He had no loyalty to the Dillons, but being part of what Barry would do to them… Did he hate them that much?

“Well?”

“What about my friends? They wanted out too.”

“Tell me about them.”

“I won’t—”

“Not their names, but how many? Who are they to you?”

“There's just three of us. I grew up with them, conned with them my whole life, they're… family.”

That seemed to appease Barry, and he softened again. “I won't touch them, but you tell them nothing about me.”

“What am I supposed to say? I’m meant to deliver everything tonight. Are you just going to tear through whatever club the Dillons are at and—”

“No. We’ll think of something else. But later.”

“What—”

“Bring everything into the living room,” Barry ordered, nodding down at the backpack and the stack of cash. “And don’t try to run again. I’m not done eating.”

 

XXXXX

 

Len looked like he might run anyway, battling that age-old fight or flight, but he finally chose submission. He steeled his expression impressively given his shivering, and gave a short, affirming nod.

Barry turned to head back into the living room, trusting Len would follow. Of course he would. He was terrified. Barry could have asked him to do anything right then. If he wasn’t still so hungry, that would have made him feel sick.

That Len had lied from the beginning, only there to steal from him, stung deeply, but not as badly as having him look at him like that. Barry had known the illusion couldn’t last, but he hadn’t expected things to end like this.

Glancing back when he reached the patio doors, he watched Len set the backpack on the sofa, very obviously trying not to look at the body.

“Empty it. I want to see what you took,” Barry said.

Len did so. Besides the cash were various tools, Len’s blazer from earlier, his laptop, a flashlight, and a collection of items from around the house that Barry knew were his—and valuable thanks to Len’s cataloguing—but none of them were pieces he would have missed. Miraculously, nothing had broken from when the bag fell since Len had carefully wrapped all the delicate pieces.

It seemed so meager and pointless though, to take so little when there had been far more at stake than Len realized.

“Go get one of the washcloths and a towel from the master bathroom. You’ll know which ones. Wet the cloth, please.”

“O-okay.” Len turned swiftly to carry out the task, no doubt relieved to be sent away.

Barry should kill him. If it had been anyone else, Len would be dead already. But it wasn't only sentiment that stayed Barry’s hand; he didn't fully know what was going on. He had to learn more.

And he would, _after_ he finished his meal. So much blood had already been wasted, spilling out onto the patio.

He picked up the man from where he’d fallen, deathly pale now but still clinging to life. At least there was that; blood tasted better when it was still fresh.

Bringing the still spurting artery to his mouth, Barry drank greedily, trying to ease his mind and aching heart with the glorious sensation the blood gave him. He barely remembered the man's name anymore but feeding from him was like experiencing every intense emotion the man had ever had, every wonderful meal he'd ever tasted, every writhing body he'd ever been in rapture with. Taking someone's life truly meant taking their whole life into him, and he never tired of how that felt.

The man's pulse continued to slow, beat by beat, barely there finally, just as Barry heard Len return.

Opening his eyes, he watched Len while he finished eating, holding the man with ease, and letting every last gushing drop fall into his waiting mouth until it was merely dribbles.

Len had the dampened cloth and a towel—both red, of course—and was trying not to watch or meet Barry’s stare. Barry had never had someone see him like this who he didn't plan to kill. It didn’t fill him with shame; he accepted what he was, but there was still regret.

Finished now, having taken as much remaining blood as he could, Barry let the man drop, and Len flinched when the dead-weight of the skull hitting the ground made an audible crack.

“If it helps,” Barry said, “he wasn’t a nice man.”

“I’m… sure he wasn’t.”

“Len.”

At the more obvious command, Len glanced up, and Barry took the cloth from him to clean his face, remaining just outside the patio doors to keep from tracking in anymore blood. He began to wipe his mouth and as much of the rest of him as he could.

“I decided to skip the show. Didn’t sound as fun without you,” he said wryly. “Drinks don’t affect me, and dinner isn’t necessary, so I took a walk. I waited, watched, and made a careful selection. He was dragging a very young man into his car, who obviously wasn’t in any condition to say no to him. I gave him a more willing option.”

Len visibly relaxed at the explanation, at least a little, but while that had been Barry’s intention, he didn't want to lie to him anymore.

“Don’t misunderstand. If I’m forced to choose between killing someone wicked or someone who’s a threat to me, I won’t hesitate. I’ve been around a long time for a reason.”

“How long?” Len asked tentatively.

“Long enough to know the tricks. I do like swimming at night, but the extra drains are useful.” Barry gestured behind him to where the blood that had spilled, smeared on the glass doors and the chair, was mostly disappearing down one of the pool drains. “And chlorine kills just about anything. But tonight, you made me stain the rug.”

Another tremor tore through Len. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll help you clean it.”

“I’d appreciate that. I expect you to be my employee again until this is over.”

“And… when the Dillons and their crew are dead… it’ll be over?”

He was smart to be afraid, to expect that Barry would tie up loose ends afterward, but even if it was foolish to show mercy, Barry truly didn’t want to kill him. “I won’t hurt you. Or your friends. I promise. Unless you give me a reason.”

Len nodded hastily.

“I’m a mess,” Barry said with a grimace down at his ruined shirt and slacks, taking the towel from Len now, not that it would help much other than to dry his face. “I’m not always so wasteful, but I was in a bad mood.”

That caused Len to glance away again, even as he gestured weakly at the patio. “What, um…”

“I’ll take care of the body. And his car. I know what I’m doing.”

“Not very well,” Len muttered.  

“Excuse me?”

Len’s eyes widened; he hadn’t meant to say that apparently, but now he couldn’t take it back. “They’ve been finding your bodies for weeks.”

“Those aren’t my bodies.”

“What?” Len’s eyes flew back to him.

“You think the bodies the police keep finding are from me? Some of the missing persons maybe, but I don’t get caught.”

“Then who…?”

“I don't know. You thought it was me?”

“Before tonight, I thought it was the Dillons. Maybe it still is.” He looked off distantly, but more in thought than in fear.  

“Who are these people?” Barry asked. “What do they know about me?”

“I thought they were just typical gangsters, but I don’t know how they heard about you or how much they know. They wouldn't tell me their source.”

“Someone else brought them to me?”

“I guess so. Yes,” Len said more certainly.

“Then we'll have to play this smart. Get to work on the carpet. I need to take a shower.” Barry started to fold the cloth and towel, then decided to only take the cloth and draped the towel over the body for Len’s benefit. “When you’re done, find me upstairs.”

 

XXXXX

 

When he was done. When he was done…

Cleaning up the blood.

Len knew a few secrets for getting out blood. Never this much, but the principle was the same. Steel brush, dishwashing detergent in the water. Ammonia. He attended to all the spots he could find on the carpet, then took a few minutes to clean the sliding glass doors and the tiles in the foyer.

There was blood on him too, on his shirt from Barry's hands, that he scrubbed off in the kitchen sink. He was glad he had his gloves on, but when he was finished, he threw them away.

All that remained was the body and the mess on the patio.

The numbness and shock were starting to fade, leaving Len shivering again. He could still run, but Barry would only catch him.

And he wouldn’t spare him again.

Now Len was his…what? Servant? Minion? He’d said ‘employee’, but it didn’t feel like that anymore, not when the threat of death was… glaringly present on the patio.

At least Barry had covered the body. The man’s throat had become a mangled mess by the end.

But now Len knew what Barry had been hiding. Why he didn’t go out during the day, ‘sensitive to the light’. Why he didn’t make friends. Why he didn’t eat. Why he had so much money and possessions, a mix of old and new, like a collector over many decades.

Or was it centuries? Barry hadn’t answered the question of how old he was.

Len couldn’t risk dawdling too long, but he felt an awful dread wash over him with every step up the stairs toward the bedroom. The door to the master bath was open when he arrived, Barry just getting out of the shower and moving to find a towel— _naked_.

Len had never seen him shirtless let alone undressed, but Barry was as beautiful as ever, with flawless skin, long white limbs, a lean chest, and toned backside. Despite everything, the same desire Len had always felt for Barry stirred in him, and he stopped in the middle of the bedroom, unable to tear his eyes away.

Barry spotted him with a yelp and flung the door shut. “Have some decency!” he called.

“You... left the door open.”

“Only so I could hear if you tried to run again!”

“Then why didn’t you hear me coming?”

The door swung back open, Barry now in a fluffy white robe, flushed—no, _blushing_ , with a peek of skin in the parting of the robe that proved the scarlet went all the way down. “I was listening for the front doors, not you skulking about!”

Len smiled. He couldn't help it. There was no coldness or real anger, just Barry's usual flustered self. “You were getting pretty hot and bothered with a stranger a few minutes ago.” _Before you tore his throat out,_ Len didn’t say aloud. “But indecency from me makes you blush?”

“I didn’t like _him_.”

“But you like me?”

Barry averted his gaze, hands fidgeting, like any other day when their flirting surpassed his comfort level. “I thought that was obvious.”

 _Oh_. Then not everything had been a lie.

Just that Barry was human.

“Are you finished downstairs?” Barry straightened, back to serious.

“Everything but the patio.”

“Then—”

Len’s phone vibrated, startling them both. As he pulled it out to check the message, he remembered the flash drive in his other pocket.

“What is it?” Barry asked, moving fully into the bedroom.

“Uh…” Len blinked down at his phone. “My friends, checking in on me. I told them I’d message them when I was on my way to see the Dillons.”

“It seems like quite the long con for so few spoils.”

Len hesitated, but then, after putting his phone away, he took out the flash drive and held it out to Barry. “That’s because the real prize was that.”

“You were in my safe?” Barry snatched it from him, shocked and angry again, but quickly becoming flustered like before. “Then you saw…”

“Your picture of me? Yeah.”

Barry turned even redder. Did he blush easier because he’d so recently…?

Len didn’t want to think about that.

“I just…” Barry closed his eyes and took a breath, wrapping his fingers around the flash drive, “wanted something to remember you by.”

“You took all the photos downstairs, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re afraid of heights, how did you get the one of the Grand Canyon?”

“I didn’t take it from the _edge_ ,” Barry blurted, looking up with a start.

Len laughed, so suddenly, it caught him off guard. “S-sorry.”

“No, I… suppose I am pretty ridiculous sometimes,” Barry said with a soft smile.  

Soft. He could be soft, truly, despite his terrifying power.

“Thank you for being honest about the safe,” he said.

“That’s how I got the cash. The type of lock on your safe can be hacked pretty easily.”

“You’ll have to help me find a new one then. Here.” Barry handed the drive back to him. “Use it how you planned. Tell them you're on your way, that everything went fine. You’re going to give your employers exactly what they asked for. I'll get it all back eventually.”

“But what—”

“Do that much for now. I’m going to get dressed.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry had to get dressed. He didn’t want to be naked around Len when he already felt so exposed.

Having Len’s eyes on him had reminded him of when they met, and Len first had him tripping over his tongue. Maybe Len’s advances hadn’t all been a lie.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Barry grabbed a change of clothes and shut himself in the bathroom, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear Len, who left the room for a while, but there was no sound at any of the doors, and he soon returned.

Barry had already deposited his bloody clothes and the towels in the basement. His secret staircase connected to the second floor, so Len hadn’t seen him descend. The towels Barry would wash in the extra machines he had down there, the slacks might be salvageable, too, he’d at least try, but the shirt he’d incinerate.

He wasn’t always good at his finances or organizing his possessions—or schedule or _life_ —but he was an expert at covering his tracks.

Once he was changed into a fresh pair of slacks and a simple, long-sleeved shirt, he hung his robe behind the bathroom door and exited to find Len sitting on the bed beside the refilled backpack with his laptop out.

“The information is copying,” Len said, not quite as timid, but there was wariness in his eyes when Barry sat next to him. “I was going to put the drive back after, so you’d be less likely to notice anything right away.”

“But I surprised you and upset your plans?”

“Yeah.”

Barry wanted to ask if Len would have just left then, never to return. Likely, yes. That would have been the smart play.

Which meant his ‘Goodbye, Barry' _had_ been final.

“I need to find out what these people know and who gave them the information,” Barry focused on the matter at hand. “I also prefer to only kill when I need to feed, but I don’t require blood more than once a week.”

“Once a week?” Len blinked rapidly, but it was difficult to tell if that meant he'd expected it to be less frequent or more.  

“I can go longer, two weeks, even a month if I have to, but it’s dangerous if I get too hungry.”

“What happens?”

“I become less discerning,” Barry said shortly, not wanting to discuss that right now, since Len’s spine had grown so rigid.

He just wished they could go back to the banter, the subtle flirting, the easy smiles and furtive touches, and pretend none of this happened, living blissfully ignorant in the past few weeks, but that wasn't possible now.

“We’re going to take our time and pick off your employers one by one,” Barry continued. At least then he’d get to see Len for a while longer.

“But they know my friends and I were planning to leave town after we got our share.”

“Tell them you want to keep the con going, see if you can get even more out of me. Make them think you want to win their favor, that you’ll give them that much more of the final payoff. Sell it however you like, but from their perspective, you’re the one taking the risk. They’ll go for it, if this really is all about money.

“As for your friends, tell them the truth. That I caught you, and we’re working together now to take out your employers. They can know I’m dangerous as long as they think I’m human. When this is over, I’ll pay you handsomely, and you won’t owe me anything.”

“You’ll pay me?”

“You work for me, don’t you?”

Len blinked again, like he wasn't sure how to respond to that.

The copying finished, and Len handed the flash drive back to Barry.

“You’re going to need the information for the accounts they transfer everything to if you plan to get it all back.”

“I’ll get what I need.” Barry could stand right over one of the thieves’ shoulders while they logged into their accounts, and they wouldn't notice him if he didn't want them to.

“Also, you can have this back.” Len pulled the cash from the backpack. “It’s not part of what the Dillons are expecting. I just took it for travel money.”

“Then keep it.” Barry waved it away. “Tell your friends it’s an advance from our new deal.”

“Are you sure—”

“Keep it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to let you go now, Len, but I will be right behind you.”

 

XXXXX

 

What did Barry mean—he’d be right behind Len? How? On foot? Could he turn into a bat and fly?

Len hurried through the dark to where he’d parked his bike, constantly looking over his shoulder, but not seeing anything. Some of the blushing nerd he’d come to care about was still in Barry, but he couldn’t shake that lurking sense of dread.

He needed to focus on following Barry’s orders. And he had to up his acting game, because if he stuttered or faltered around the Dillons, they’d never buy this.

He'd texted Sara earlier that everything was fine, that he'd be leaving soon. Now, as he reached his bike, he messaged Mardon for where to meet and make the exchange. The address Len received back wasn't for a club but a building in the warehouse district. A safe house. Somewhere secluded.

“What if they just kill me?” he wondered aloud.

“I won't let that happen.”

He spun around at the sound of Barry’s voice. He hadn’t heard any extra rustling or a single stick crack underfoot during the walk from the house, yet there Barry was, materializing out of the darkness like a phantom.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Barry said earnestly. “I promise. Now go. I'll be watching.”

There was still dread and fear, but something thrilling tingled at the base of Len’s spine at having such a powerful being as his dark guardian angel.

That thought assuaged his nerves during the ride into town, knowing that if anything got out of hand, Barry would be there to save him. Though he tried not to imagine the type of carnage that might leave.

The warehouse was indeed secluded. Len didn’t see any people on the streets nearby and barely any vehicles. His shirt had dried by now from rinsing it of the blood, but he still put on his blazer before heading inside with the backpack.

“Look at you,” Baez said with a whistle, lounging on a sofa. Mardon and Bivolo were shooting pool in the back, and the Dillons sat at a table. All of them had drinks nearby or in hand, and there was cash on the table like they’d been counting it from another recent score.

“Everything as agreed,” Len said, setting the backpack on the coffee table.

Baez righted herself with a greedy grin, and the others crowded in. Len tried to hand the flash drive to Sam, but Bivolo snagged it and rushed over to a computer desk against the wall.

“Careful,” Len warned Baez when she almost tipped the backpack upside down. “Some of what’s in there is breakable.”

“This junk is worth something?” Mardon scoffed once they’d removed it all and unwrapped the more fragile items.

A Baccarat crystal clock, antique gold Cartier pocket watch, and hand-painted porcelain vase from Germany were the highest ticket items.

“I did the research,” Len said. “Go to your fences; you won’t be disappointed. And Allen won’t miss any of it.”

“This is legit!” Bivolo called from the computer. “It’s all right here. And holy shit, this guy’s loaded. It’s even more than we were told.”

“You did good, Snart,” Sam said with a smirk.

“What about my cut?”

“You’ll get your five percent.”

“Make it ten again.”

“You having a laugh?” Mardon threw down the pocket watch with a snort.

“Just thinking we can end this with a bigger payout.”

“What are you selling, Snart?” Baez asked, enamored with a silver serving dish.

Sam, Rosa, and Mardon all drew closer, surrounding Len, but he forced himself to look bold.

“I’ve got Allen wrapped around my finger. He won’t notice any of this missing, and we can get more. We can get everything. What he’s most protective of are his stateside accounts. The offshore ones barely touch the surface. He’s already asked me to stay on full-time. He hasn’t given me his account numbers or passwords yet, but if I play this right, I can get him to turn over everything. I’m talking a real long con. Another month, six weeks tops, but I’ll have him so head over heels for me, he’ll be gifting half of what we want to steal.”

“You’re seducing the fucker?” Baez snorted.

“Hope he’s worth it,” Mardon sneered, like he expected a rickety old man the way everyone else had.

“You don’t know what he looks like?” Len said in surprise, gauging their responses carefully—they didn’t. “Oh, he’s worth it. A nice bonus for me. But the best part of going back in for more is that everything new we take, you won’t have to split with your source.”

“He has a point,” Rosa said, crossing her arms with a contemplative glint in her eyes.

“Rosa,” Sam reproached.

“Come on, babe. What do we owe this guy? So he brought us the job? What has he done since, and he expects half? Let him have it.” She gestured at the loot on the coffee table. “And we take a hundred percent of the bigger pie.”

“Eighty,” Len corrected. “I get ten. And ten from this take too.”

“You’re sure confident tonight,” Mardon glowered.

“That’s because I earned it.”

“Hang on,” Bivolo called, spinning around in the computer chair. “If you’re willing to take such a risk, why bring us in on it? You could have kept everything for yourself.”

“I’m no idiot. If you’d seen me in town or caught wind of me still being in that house, you would have thought I was betraying you to Allen or the police. I don’t make enemies where I can make friends. I want things right between us,” he said, looking to each of them. “But if you doubt me and this all goes sideways, you already got the original payday, and the only one they can pin anything on is me.”

“Well, well,” Rosa said. “Maybe you’re not just the pretty face we took you for. I say it’s a deal.”

“For now,” Sam interjected, “but we’re going to expect updates. Progress reports. _Regularly_. There could be a lot of heat coming down if Allen catches on, and even if that’s only on you, we don’t want our source finding out either.”

“Who is he anyway?” Len tried to ask casually.

“Oh no.” Mardon pushed forward, following up with a rough push at Len’s shoulder. “So you can go over our heads right to him? No fucking way.”

“Mark,” Sam said in warning, and Mardon backed off. “You stick to what you do best, Snart. We’ll handle the rest. We have work to do transferring that money and getting all this lovely merchandise appraised for sale. By morning, your initial cut will be in your account, and you and your friends can move out of that shithole.”

Len hadn’t thought about Sara or Ray much yet, but even with just the stack of cash Barry had let him keep, he could take care of his friends for a long time, which would hopefully soften the blow of no longer leaving town.

That still wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

A knock at the door gave Len more of a fright than he’d admit, suddenly wondering if it was Barry, and that he was going to kill them all right away anyway. These were bad people, the worst, but the thought of watching Barry tear into them and seeing more blood tonight, churned Len’s stomach. Maybe he couldn’t go through with this.

“Must be that late runner,” Mardon growled, storming past Len for the door.

Len held his breath, but when Mardon lurched the door open, it was a runner, some gangly teenager, ragged looking and far too thin. He passed a backpack to Mardon, much like Len had, and Mardon checked it and pulled out a wad of cash.

“That’s it? Get in here!” Mardon grabbed him by the hair, tossing the backpack into the room and slamming the kid face-first into the wall. He twisted his arm behind his back, and while he kept one hand on the kid’s head, the other started to bend back his first two fingers.

“S-stop!”

“You make us wait, don’t offer the full payload, and think I’ll go easy?!”

Len glanced warily at the others, but while Sam was watching with mild interest, the rest weren’t even paying attention, back to sifting through their haul. Len didn’t even know what the money was from—drugs, guns—but Mardon kept bending the kid’s fingers, ignoring his screams, until the bones snapped.

“Ah!”

“Shut up. Next time, it’ll be the right hand.”

He shoved the kid out the door again and slammed it in his face, laughing as he picked up the bag along the way back to the coffee table.

“Aren’t you glad you’re playing nice with us now, Snart?” Mardon sneered at him.

 _Fuck them_ , Len thought with a surge of anger. They deserved everything Barry did to them.

“I’ll give you my first status report next week,” Len told Sam.

None of them moved to stop him as he reclaimed his backpack and turned to leave.

The kid was about a block down, whimpering and still nursing his hand. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the Dillons for much longer.

Len didn’t expect Barry to show himself while he was still near the warehouse, but now that his next destination was home, he started to grow wary again. Barry would know who Sara and Ray were. Wherever he was, watching, he’d know their faces. With that thought came dread again, but Len had to trust that Barry would keep his word.

“So?” Sara ran up to him as soon as he entered the loft, Ray on her heels.

“The money will be in our account by morning, _ten_ percent, and I got a bonus.” Len grinned, pulling the wad of cash from his pocket and tossing it onto the table. He set the backpack down too, much lighter now with only his own possessions.

“Sweet!” Ray snatched up the cash excitedly. Everything was already packed behind them, ready to be loaded into Ray’s car. They weren’t taking any furniture, since they planned to buy everything new once they decided on where to stay in Coast City.

 _Had_ planned. Had.

“The bonus is from Barry,” Len said.

“What?” Sara turned to him with a frown. “What do you mean, _from Barry_? He gave you a stack of cash before you robbed him?”

“No. He gave it to me after. When he caught me.”

Sara and Ray both froze.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. We just have a change of plans.”

He sat them down at the table and explained what had happened. Well, he explained that Barry had caught him and their new deal, leaving out the vampire part and the man Barry had eaten. The important thing was for them to understand that while Barry was dangerous, he was still on their side.

“Are you saying your blushing, swooning, stuttering—”

“Don’t start that again,” Len interrupted. “But yes. He’s a lot more dangerous than the Dillons, but he’s going to let me work this off. We’ll still get paid, and when it’s over, we won’t have to worry about the Dillons or their goons ever again.”

“What about Allen?” Sara demanded.

“We won't have to worry about him either.”

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

“He promised me.”

“He's apparently pretty good at lying to you.”

Len had to admit that was true, but what other choice did he have?

“You’re scared of him,” Sara said with a start.

“I thought you had, like, all this chemistry,” Ray added.

“We did. We _do_. He’s just not… what I thought. But it’s going to be okay.”

“You’re not telling us something,” Sara insisted.

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. It’ll be fine. I’ll handle it.”

“You keep saying that,” Ray argued, “but are you really okay with letting Allen kill the Dillons? I mean, that’s what you’re implying he’s going to do, right? I thought we didn’t like working for murderers.”

“We do when one of them’s on our side.”

“Len—”

“I’m tired.” Len pushed from the table. “I’m going to wash up. Then we’re going to pack everything in Ray’s shitty Volvo and get a nice fancy suite at a hotel. So start picking one.”

Before either of them could say more, Len escaped into the bathroom, the only place he could be alone without leaving the loft.

He collapsed against the door, letting his eyes close and taking several shaky breaths.

“You did well.”

Len gasped as he opened his eyes—to see Barry sitting in the window. It hadn’t been open when he entered, had it? But he hadn’t heard a thing.

It was a large window that faced the alley and usually had the curtains drawn. Barry sat casually on the ledge with one leg propped.

“I saw the account numbers they’re transferring everything to,” he said.

“From Bivolo’s computer? How?”

Barry didn’t answer but held out a piece of paper with several number on it. “Which one is yours?”

Len inched forward, struggling to get his pulse back under control. “That one.”

“Which means one of these others belongs to whoever sent them after me.”

“Could it be another vampire?”

“No.” Barry winced, maybe because that was the first time either of them had said the word out loud. “We don’t play games with each other like that.”

So there _were_ others.

Great.

“Do you have enemies?” Len asked.

“None breathing,” Barry said absently. When he looked up, he seemed to come back to himself, but his expression was hard to read. “We’ll discuss next steps later, but the Dillons will pay, and so will whoever hired them.

“Go find yourself that hotel room. Tomorrow, come at your normal time. If you don’t show,” he said sternly, “I’ll come looking. Please don’t make me do that.”

“You can be out in the sun?” Len couldn’t help asking.

“It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t like the glare, but that wouldn’t stop me—”

“I’ll be there! I was only curious.”

Barry looked away with a sigh, stuffing the piece of paper back in his pocket. Len wasn’t sure what to say or do or anything else to expect, but after a few beats, Barry said, “I suppose you fancied yourself Hades until tonight.”

The soft tone startled Len as much as Barry’s arrival and occasional chilling coldness. He sounded sad now, and that made Len consider the question carefully.

“I still do,” he said, and when Barry’s eyes flashed to his, he willed himself to not start trembling. “Weren’t you listening to the last line of the story so far? Persephone is the one to watch out for.”

A small smile twitched at Barry’s lips, and for a moment, Len wondered if he was going to ask him to finish the tale, but he simply nodded—and leapt from the window.

Len stared, startled yet again but also curious. He moved forward to peer outside.

Nothing. No sign of Barry.

But no bats either. He'd had to at least check.

Because Barry was a vampire. And now, Len only worked for _him_.

 

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little frazzled right now, because getting into Len and Barry's mental states and shifts for this chapter was really hard, and I'm still a little unsure of how it all turned out. I think I've just looked at the same scenes for too long, but I'd love some encouragement as I start to move into other plot points. Maybe I'll end up taking a break and dabbling with Robot next after all...

Len thought yesterday had been rough, arriving for his workday knowing the entire time that he was about to betray a man he genuinely liked and that their date would never happen. Crazy to think that had only been twenty-four hours ago.

Now, he was heading into work for his vampire master, so they could plan out several murders.

At least the Dillons hadn’t lied; that morning, there had been so many fresh zeroes in the joint bank account Len shared with his crew that they’d be able to survive for a long time.

Once Len’s debt to Barry was paid.

“I’m here!” he called as he entered the house—fifteen minutes early. The foyer smelled of lavender, with no remaining traces of ammonia at all.

Then Len remembered other times the house had smelled like lavender and wondered if that meant…

He shuddered. If he put stock in the Zodiac, Pisces were believed to be the most compassionate of the signs. At their worst they were weak-willed daydreamers, but then, no one expected anyone to be a killer, least of all someone as outwardly sweet and gullible as Barry.

 _Outwardly._ Barry was something else deep down.

Len told himself he had nothing to fear as long as he followed Barry’s orders. He’d been so concerned with that this first day, but maybe being early explained Barry’s absence.

The silence in reply to Len’s arrival drew his attention toward the living room, just to see, just to know. The patio doors were shut with the curtains drawn like always. Len approached them slowly, visions of last night assaulting his senses like flickers of apparitions—Barry’s eyes and fangs as the man’s throat lay torn open, drops of blood trailing on the carpet, the way Barry had held the man afterward and lapped at the remaining dribbles.

But the carpet was clean now, Len had made sure of that himself, and when he peeked behind the curtains, there was nothing outside except the empty patio and pool.

“Damn it!” a distant voice made Len jump— _Barry_ , sounding distressed.

“Barry?” Len returned to the foyer.

“Up here!” he called from somewhere above. “Just one more minute!”

Now, Len was curious and ascended the stairs, following Barry’s voice to the bedroom. He found him grumbling to himself in front of his dresser mirror, fumbling unsuccessfully with his bowtie.

“Urg! This is impossible today!” Barry huffed, roughly tugging the ends loose again.

Len chuckled, and Barry’s eyes snapped to him so furiously that dread coursed through Len like before. Only for it to crumble, because _Barry_ crumbled, turning fidgety in familiar embarrassment.

“I-I-I was just—”

“Going to all that trouble for me?”

“I like looking presentable for myself too!”

Len chuckled again, reminded of why he’d been so charmed by Barry in the beginning. “Come here.” He coaxed Barry to face him, as he strode into the room and reached up to finish doing the bowtie himself.

His fingers were good for more than lifting wallets and the occasional sleight of hand, and he finished the job almost as quickly as he’d undone Barry’s tie the other day.

“There. Or you could go without,” Len teased, but the intense way Barry was staring at him made him shrink back uncertainly. “N-not that you… have to listen to me.”

“I like listening to you.” Barry followed, like he hadn’t meant to worry him. “You’re so much better at some things. And you’re right,” he said with finality, undoing the bowtie once more. “Maybe you can help me look for some updates to my wardrobe.”

“…Sure,” Len said, taking a breath to steady his pulse. He felt so foolish, caught between two ways to act around Barry and completely unsure which was right or which part of Barry was the real thing.

“Did you sleep well?” Barry asked, pulling the tie out from around his collar and setting it on the dresser.

“At the Marriot?” Len chose his words carefully. “Well enough.”

That cold stillness settled over Barry as he returned to face Len.

Shit.

“I know you're lying. I waited and followed you to the Hilton.”

 _Shit_.

“I was going to admit the truth even if you didn't call me on it, I just—”

“I understand. You need to know what you can get away with, and you want to protect your friends. They seemed nice, like they really care about you.”

A tremor shivered up from the base of Len’s spine. “Please…”

“I’m not threatening them.”

“Yes, you are.”

Barry paused and glanced away with a pinch of sorrow. “Yes, I am. I don’t want to, but I need to know I can trust you.”

“I get it. No more lies.”

“Thank you. I do believe you’re trustworthy, Len. After all, you’re here.”

Len nodded.

“That's why I'd like you to do what you can to trace the other account numbers.” Barry took out the piece of paper with the account numbers from his top dresser drawer and handed it to Len.

“I can do that,” Len said. Or rather, Ray could.

“But first, shall we get back to those investment ideas?”

“Oh. Uhh…”

“Since we didn’t get to finish everything yesterday. We ended so early so we could get ready for our… I mean,” Barry shut his eyes, as if pained to remember their ‘date’ that never happened, “if you don’t mind still helping me with things like that?”

“I don’t mind,” Len said quickly.

“We have all day to discuss other things.”

 _Like murder_ , Len filled in.

“Shall we go into the office?”

Len could do this. _This_ was easy. And even though relaxing around Barry was proving difficult, once they were in their customary seats—Len in his roller chair, Barry in his straight-back—mulling over investment portfolios almost felt normal.

Until Len knocked a pen from the desk.

“I’ll get it,” Barry said just as Len leaned down too, and suddenly, he was lunging for Len’s throat!

Len kicked at the carpet to send the roller chair flying back a foot.

Barry startled, looking confused, because he hadn’t been lunging at anything. He frowned and finished claiming the pen to set it back on the desk.

“S-sorry,” Len stammered.

“It’s all different now, isn’t it?” Barry said sadly.

“Just hard to forget I saw you eat someone last night.” Len cringed, wishing he hadn’t said it like _that_.

“I never would have hurt you,” Barry affirmed. “I _won’t_ hurt you. Or your friends—”

“Unless I give you a reason,” Len restated.

Barry sighed and with it cracked the remaining coldness until there was only sorrow left. “Then forget all that.”

“What?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t bear to have you look at me like…” He winced and clenched his eyes closed as if to stay tears. “Just go. You don’t owe me anything, and you never have to see me again.” He stood abruptly and tried to turn for the door, but Len grasped after him and stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Wait. There’s something bigger going on here. I want to understand it too.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just afraid of me.”

“You’d let me walk out the door?”

“I shouldn’t,” Barry eyes drifted back slowly, but he didn’t try to pull from Len’s grip, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t bear to see you hurting, and I have your picture when I want to remember you.”

All those weeks Len thought he’d been reading Barry so easily, and he’d been proven wrong, but he swore there was no con in Barry’s eyes now the way they’d conned each other for so long.

He let his hand fall from Barry’s wrist. “I’ll stay.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because I work for you.” Len mustered a small smile. “And I’m too wrapped up in this to walk away without seeing it to the end. I owe you that. But then no more threats. I won’t betray you, but my friends—”

“I swear.” Barry nodded dutifully, eagerly reclaiming his chair.

“And no more games. You don’t need to play a role for me.”

“What do you mean?” Barry looked at him innocently, endearingly, something he easily could have let fall away now, but that was just it.

“This is all the real you, isn’t it?” Len said softly.

“Who else would I be?”

Len took a breath, watching carefully for Barry’s reactions, as he slid the roller chair closer again. “And so, Hades took Persephone across the River Styx.”

Barry’s eyes widened.

“She had lied a little. She was afraid. Of the future. Of the unknown. But not of him. Her darkness could be greater than all the Underworld she saw around her, because what was more violent and terrifying than a summer storm that brought the floods and great lightning down from Zeus himself?

“The Spring brought life and beauty, the Summer warmth, but it all ended in death, one way or another. Hades was merely the guardian of it all, not the cause.

“Persephone wondered just how many dead she'd laid at Hades’ feet.”

The deep longing in Barry’s expression tempered the fear that kept finding its way into Len’s stomach.

“Hades knew all that,” Len continued. “As they’d talked on their way down from Mount Olympus, he’d realized who she was—daughter of Demeter, goddess of natural life and the rebirth and return to death of spring fading into summer and giving way to autumn.

“Hades was afraid too, but not of her. He feared he'd love her and lose her as fleetingly as when a storm passed.”

They’d started to gravitate closer while Len talked. Whatever doubts he might have still had, he pushed them aside and reached for Barry’s cheek.

“Don’t.” Barry drew back. “Don't play a role for me either. If you think you need to, to protect yourself, you don’t—”

“Barry,” Len said, daring to grasp his face anyway, “humor me and let me kiss you.”

Then he did.

 

XXXXX

 

Len _kissed_ him.

And oh, his lips and mouth were so much better than the man from last night.

Barry had longed to feel the pliant press of Len’s mouth, the slow tilt of his head, the subtle slip of tongue between his teeth, and the gentle prodding to push the kiss deeper.

He shouldn’t let it go deeper. He shouldn’t let them kiss at all. It would only make him want more, when he knew how dangerous this was, even just to steal a simple taste.

“Wait,” Barry gasped away, unsure where to put his hands as Len held him captive with that palm on his cheek, “we can’t.”

“Why not?” Len panted back, twisting his other fingers into Barry’s shirt. “I see you now. I get it. And I still want this. I’m sorry I lied and used you like that.”

“I know.” Barry melted at the sweet words. “I’m sorry too. I wish you hadn’t seen—”

Len captured his words with another kiss, then another, each reconnection growing more frantic. Barry had to stop it, but all he could think about with each new plunge of Len’s tongue was tearing his shirt open, climbing into his lap like he had that unworthy man last night, and rutting until he felt something real.

Their knees knocked together, and Barry spread his apart, letting Len get closer. Len’s hand dragged further down Barry’s stomach, reached the edge of his slacks, and paused only a moment before he continued down between Barry’s legs and squeezed.

“ _Len_ ,” Barry moaned, dizzy from having the smell of Len all around him, stronger with their arousal. “W-wait, aren’t you… still afraid?”

Len pulled back, gazing into Barry’s eyes, and seemed to find exactly what he was looking for. “I don't care,” he said and kissed Barry again.

Barry tried to tamp down the urge to seek out the rush of blood he could hear in Len’s veins, tried to pull away, but Len kept following him, kept rubbing between his legs with the same deft fingers that could tie a bowtie so effortlessly and just as easily make it disappear.

Barry clawed forward to grip Len’s thighs, unable to stop kissing him back, but between licks and nips and harried breaths, he tried talking sense. “S-sometimes, if I get too excited, I…”

“It’s okay,” Len said him with firm, rhythmic strokes, “let it happen.”

“N-no, I mean, I… I-I…”

Barry’s eyes sharpened, fangs lengthening, as he pulled back with a hungry growl, and lunged for Len’s throat.

“Fuck!” Len cried, kicking the roller chair back again, only this time, it caught on the carpet, sending him toppling backwards and for the wheels to spin as they nearly struck Barry in the face.

Which finally snapped him to his senses.

“Len!” Barry cried, leaping to his aid, but when he tried to reach down to him, Len frantically scrambled away on his elbows. “I’m sorry!” Barry held up his hands, forcing his face to shift human. “I’m sorry.”

They were both breathing hard, the terror on Len’s face unmistakable, and the passion of the moment ruined. It took a minute, but eventually, Len raised a shaky hand and let Barry help him to his feet.

“ _That_ happens, huh?”

“I’m so sorry. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt your friends. I promise—”

“I believe you. Maybe you just need practice.” Len offered a weak smile, reaching for Barry’s face again.

“Len…” Barry placed his hand over his, touched that he was still willing to try.

“We’ll go slower.”

“I don’t know if—”

A knock at the door made them both jump, and Len snatched his hand back again.

“S-sorry,” he stammered like before.

“No, I’m the one who—”

Another knock cut Barry off with an anguished scowl.

“I’ll get it,” Len said, casting Barry a yearning glance, “but I’m not running away.”

 

XXXXX

 

Why wasn’t Len running away? He definitely hadn’t imagined the lunge that time, but he couldn’t deny how he felt.

He was drawn to Barry, had been from day one, but especially then, realizing that Barry was equal parts monster and blushing, swooning, stuttering mess. Kissing him had felt right, if a little cold like his hands, but more invigorating than off-putting, and certainly heated enough once they started pawing at each other.

Because Len wasn’t being forced to stay, he’d chosen to.

Sara and Ray would think he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had.

He shouldn’t have pushed so hard but losing himself in Barry had also given him a longer stint of normal, like finding his feet after walking through quicksand all night. It had still culminated in fangs and flashing eyes, but Barry had held back for him. He’d stopped himself— _for Len_.

Having that kind of effect on a being so powerful made the adrenaline coursing through Len’s body feel remarkably thrilling.

“Eddie.” Len exhaled as he opened the door, heart still pounding in his ears. “Hey. You know, now isn’t the best—”

“Sorry, Len,” Eddie broke in, no neighborly smile this morning. He was dressed for work, the usual three-piece suit with his badge and gun very apparent, and he carried a thick file folder, “but even if Mr. Allen isn’t in right now, I’m going to have to wait for him. I'm surprised to see you here on a Saturday.”

“Barry convinced me to stay on longer,” Len said, since the best lies were the truth. “We needed to work out some new arrangements. What’s going on?”

“I’d prefer to explain that to him. I need to ask him a few questions. Are you okay?” Eddie frowned as he looked Len over.

Len was breathing hard. At least the scare had dwindled any other telling signs of what had been going on. “Yeah, I just ran down from upstairs to answer the door. What do you need to ask Barry about?”

“Well…” Eddie obviously didn’t want to tell him, which meant it was police business.

Oh no.

“It’s all right, Len,” Barry called from inside. “Let him in.”

Not once in the three weeks Len had known Barry had he seen anyone cross that threshold other than the two of them—and the man Barry killed last night.

“Mr. Allen,” Eddie said with an attempt at a smile, still far too serious. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Len quickly closed the door, as Barry came forward to shake Eddie’s hand, like two disparate worlds colliding.

“My apologies it took so long,” Barry said, smiling cordially. “I've been far too busy since I moved in and keeping Len busy too.”

“I understand. Ooof, must be cold in here,” Eddie said with a shiver.

It wasn’t; that was just Barry.

“Smells lovely though.”

“Thank you. Would you like something to drink,” Barry offered, “and we can sit in the kitchen? Or would you prefer the living room?”

The living room—where there had been blood all over the carpet.

“Living room is fine, thank you. You know, Len was right. You’re not at all what I expected.”

That’s because he was a vampire.

Len had to get a hold of himself. Just because this looked bad didn’t mean Eddie was going to accuse Barry of anything. It didn’t mean Barry would be forced to retaliate. Len hoped it didn’t. But even though he believed he had nothing to fear for himself or his friends anymore, that didn't protect others if Barry perceived them as a threat—not even a nice family man with a wife and two kids.

“I hope that means I’m a pleasant surprise.” Barry was all easy charm, like he’d been when Len first met him. He’d proven easily ruffled, but he kept it together around others, around _prey_.

“Only if you promise to come to our barbeque next weekend,” Eddie said, already growing more relaxed as they gathered around the coffee table, with Eddie taking an armchair, and Barry and Len the sofa.

“You might twist my arm.” Barry chuckled. “So, what seems to be the problem, Detective? Oh, and I’d like Len to stay, if that’s all right, since he’s been handling all my affairs.”

Like cleaning the house and pool, unknowingly helping get rid of evidence for three weeks.

Len had to _stop_.

“I’m glad you’ll be sticking around, Len. But I thought you had another gig?” Eddie turned to him.

“Barry… made a better offer,” Len said, still trying to catch his breath.

He couldn’t help it; when Eddie glanced down at the file folder, he shot Barry a panicked look.

Barry stared him down, stone-faced and cold again.

 _Not Eddie_ , Len pleaded silently. _Please not Eddie_. 

“As you may have heard,” Eddie began, prompting Barry to look forward again, “there have been an increase in missing persons lately, and several bodies found with similar MOs in the past few weeks. Very messy, bloody business. We’ve identified the victims, and two of them have your home number as recent outgoing calls.”

_What?_

“That’s why I have to ask, Mr. Allen: How do you know these people?”

Eddie passed two photographs to Barry, one of a middle-aged woman, the other of a young man. They were normal, happy photographs, but deeper in the file folder, Len caught a glimpse of the carnage they’d become.

“That’s Kathryn,” Barry said in genuine surprise. “My realter. And Gerald was the carpenter I hired for renovations before I moved in. I haven’t spoken to either of them in weeks.”

“I’m going to need your alibi for the nights we believe to be time of death.”

That should be easy, because these weren’t Barry’s victims. He’d told Len as much, and he was too smart to go after anyone connected to him. Plus, he honestly seemed sad to hear that they were the ones killed.

“He was with me,” Len said after Eddie gave the dates, which was true, but that might not matter if anything else connected Barry to the deaths. “Both those nights, right here at the house.”

“Working late?”

“We always do.”

“Detective, may I know the names of the other victims?” Barry asked.

Eddie gave them and pulled out their photos too.

“This other man put in my pool,” Barry said. “And the woman was my travel agent when I first came to town.”

“They all knew you,” Eddie stated the obvious. “Could be a coincidence.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Barry handed the photos back to him.

Len tensed, because he saw Barry’s muscles grow taut too.

“You know what they say, Mr. Allen: Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern. Four is deeply concerning.”

As soon as Eddie glanced away to gather everything back into the file folder, Len grabbed Barry’s hand and shook his head in pleading. _Not Eddie_ , not with those twins next door. They could figure something else out. These weren’t even Barry’s kills! But Len knew that didn’t matter, because it still put too much attention on him.

Barry almost looked cold again, almost maintained the visage of the monster, but for Len, he hesitated.

“You might be next.”

Their eyes snapped back to Eddie, hands releasing before he looked up.

“You think someone is after _Barry_?” Len asked.

“It's a possibility. Is there anyone who might want an inside look at this place, Mr. Allen? Someone who could be picking those people off to get more information on you or details about this house?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said. “No one springs to mind. I tend to keep to myself.”

“I’d say I’m even more glad that Len is staying, but you should be aware,” he turned to Len again, “that as someone who’s worked with Barry since he arrived, you could be a target too.”

Len’s fears had been so focused on the Dillons and even on Barry that he hadn’t considered _another_ threat.

“If someone’s after you, I have children not too far away that I don’t want to worry about. As of now, I don’t need you to come down to the station, but I’d appreciate your cooperation if anything comes up. And it would be best if you made sure you were around more often.”

“Absolutely, Detective,” Barry said. “I want you to catch this person. Those were good people who died. Let us know of anything you need.”

After a solemn nod, Eddie pulled on a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair then, but we’ll see you next weekend?”

Barry laughed, falling easily back into the part of unassuming neighbor. “I suppose I do need to thank you for that pie. I couldn’t get it out of my mind that entire evening.”

If Len hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might have smirked, since he had a feeling Barry meant that.

“I’ll tell Iris,” Eddie said as they stood to head for the door. “I mean, _I_ baked it, but she likes to brag about me sometimes. Thanks again, both of you.”

“See you soon, Eddie,” Len called and promptly shut the door behind him.

 _Shit_.

 

XXXXX

 

“Shit,” Len said aloud.

Barry couldn’t have agreed more.

“Do you really think someone wants to kill you?”

“Or frame me,” Barry said, gesturing Len back into the living room so they could retake their spots on the sofa. “This is too coincidental. The timing, all of it revolving around me.”

“And the Dillons.” Len scowled. “This has to be the same person who hired them.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Barry had never had deaths surround him like this when he hadn’t fed from any of the victims. He was being targeted, but there was no one living who he could imagine hating him this much.

“We’re back to the same goal then,” Len said. “We have to find out who it is.”

“Can we glean anything more from your employers?”

“The Dillons don’t like me asking questions. We can still trace the account numbers, but it might help if you started tailing each of them, learning their routines. I’d follow Bivolo first, the one from the computer. He’s the wild card.”

“I’ll do that tonight,” Barry agreed.

Their eyes met, and the serious air of careful planning gave way to all the other emotions lingering in the air, like the many phases Len had gone through since his arrival. Barry never would have guessed that all that fear and distrust could have led to them kissing.

Before he ruined it.

“Thanks, by the way,” Len said, startling Barry again.

“For what?”

“You know.”

“For not attacking my neighbor?”

Len huffed a laugh. “Would you have?”

“Only if I had no other choice.”

“And what does that mean?” Len asked carefully.

“If he _had_ been here to arrest me, I wouldn’t have let him take me in.”

That seemed to sober Len, but he didn’t lean away from Barry or tense like before.  

“We need to make sure things don’t steer that direction,” Barry continued. “It’s going to be bad enough if the police are watching me more closely.”

“At least it’s Eddie,” Len said. “He likes me. The whole family does. And they can learn to like you too. At that barbecue,” he added pointedly.  

Barry grimaced. He hadn’t meant it when he said those things to Eddie.

“I know it sucks, but we need the West-Thawnes to be so charmed by their dashing neighbor, they’d never suspect you could be a killer. You can wear those sunglasses I gave you.” Len smirked.

“Fine, but you’re baking the pie.”

The laugh that escaped Len then was so honest and carefree that it washed away most of Barry’s worries. “Meanwhile, I’ll get my team digging into those account numbers.”

“Your team?” Barry immediately frowned again.

“My friends. It’s okay. They just think you’re John Wick.”

“Who?”

Amused adoration on Len’s face was better than terror too. “We’ll rent the movie sometime. I do still owe you a date.”

But that wasn’t good either. Barry wanted them on good terms, he wanted all they’d had these past few weeks, but they couldn’t go too far down that path where Len’s sweet mouth and skillful fingers had tried to lead them.

“I also have a rejuvenated myth to finish telling you.”

“Len…”

“You didn’t mean it,” Len softly beat him to the punchline.

“But that’s the problem. I can’t always control myself.”

“You seemed in control with that guy last night until you wanted to bite him.”

“That was different. I wanted a meal, not…” Barry considered what he meant to say. “I didn’t want to kiss him or touch him or have his hands on me. It’s easy when it’s an act. But when I really want someone, I… lose myself.”

Len gazed back at him, and in place of any fear or anxiety was sympathy and understanding. “That’s why you kept me at a distance for so long.”

“You did too. You didn’t ask me on that date until you were going to leave me.”

“Technically, you’re the one who called it a date,” Len said, grin returning, and then widening when Barry pouted at him. “And I agreed. But how else was I supposed to handle things, knowing how it was all going to end?”

“So… if you weren’t a thief?”

“If you weren’t a vampire?” Len volleyed back.

There were too many ends to that sentence for Barry to voice them all.

“Wait a minute…” A new realization dawned on Len with a furrow to his brow. “If you can’t get frisky with someone you like, when was the last time you…” His eyes sprang wide, and Barry felt his cheeks burn hot. “You’re not a 100-year-old virgin, are you?”

“N-no!” Barry sputtered. “I slept with people before I was turned. I’ve slept with people since. My own kind.”

“Like long term immortal boyfriends? Girlfriends? Both?”

“Brief passing tension releases,” Barry stopped him, because if his face turned any redder, old cartoon steam would start coming out of his ears. “There’s a certain unwritten understanding that if you go into another vampire’s territory, and they don’t want you there, you leave. If they don’t mind your presence, you’re friendly and don’t step on each other’s toes. Alternatively, if you’re both of the same mind, you might…”

“Fuck like bunnies?”

“Len!”

Len laughed again, obviously enjoying the discussion, though Barry wasn’t. He wasn’t a prude; these were just some things you didn’t talk about out loud!

“When was the last time you had that experience?” Len asked.

There was also that. “A long time ago.”

“Then I maintain what I said before.” Len reached over as if to take Barry’s hand again but spread his fingers over Barry’s thigh instead. “You need practice.”

Barry huffed his own laugh, amazed and a little enchanted that, even after everything, Len could still be so adorably insufferable. “You are being very unprofessional, Mr. Wynters.”

The smile dropped from Len’s face. “Um, it’s Snart, actually. Len Snart.”

“Oh. I can see why you told me Wynters,” Barry tried to brush off the reveal. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me yet?”

“Well, I never want to college, so most of my references are fake, but the knowledge is real. I have a GED, and everything else we ever talked about, things I like, that book you gave me, music, art, all of it was true.” His hand was still on Barry’s thigh, and he squeezed gently. “What about you, Mr. Allen?”

“Ptolemy,” Barry said, a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in longer than he’d last…fucked like bunnies. “Or it was, originally. I went through many variations that eventually turned into Bartholomew.”

“And that turned into Barry,” Len surmised.

“I like Barry.”

“I like Barry too.”

“A-a-and as for being 100, that is a very conservative number.”

“How conservative?”

 _Times ten_ , Barry thought, but he wasn’t ready to go into his life story yet. “I don’t think that’s something to reveal on a first date.”

“This isn’t a date.” Len grinned crookedly at him. “But does that mean I get one?”

If Barry could have turned back time to last night, he might never have hesitated, but it was all feeling so real now.

Len squeezed his thigh again, lightly rubbing down to his knee and up again to rest near his hip. He shifted to better face Barry and raised his other hand to draw Barry toward him.

Barry sucked in a breath. He didn’t need to breathe, but the habit never went away, even down to pants and gasping shudders.

As promised, this time Len’s kiss was slow, just a press at first, a gradual opening of his mouth and light flick of his tongue between Barry’s lips. A gentler and more languid kiss didn’t mean Barry’s arousal was slow to remember where they’d left off. He felt it stir low in his belly, and with it his hunger stirred too. He’d fed only last night, but the two animal sides of his id were intimately entwined.

He felt his vision intensify and fought to keep his eyes green.

“That’s it,” Len whispered. “You can do it.”

He kept kissing Barry, letting his tongue sink deeper, connecting with Barry’s in an unhurried caress.  

Len’s hand started to drift between Barry’s legs again, but Barry stopped him, keeping Len’s hand on his thigh, and reached to seek out Len’s hardness instead. It was firm and ready for him, straining against his slacks. Giving Len pleasure with tentative strokes made it somehow easier to stay in control than feeling pleasure himself.

Until Len groaned, and the sound shot a signal straight to Barry’s primal side that made his eyes flicker again and his fangs start to grow. He pulled away to catch his breath, leaning their foreheads together to fight back the beast that kept roaring to the surface.

He didn’t want to hurt Len. He never wanted to hurt him or scare him again, but even with his face changed, Len didn’t look afraid. He took Barry’s hand from between his thighs and simply held it and kissed Barry very softly, fangs and all.

“We’ll work on it,” he said, and Barry nodded.

“I-I’d like that,” he rumbled, taking a few beats to rest so he could make his face look human.

But he wasn’t human, and he never would be again.

“Len,” he said once they sat back on their separate cushions, hands still clasped, “I’m still going to have to kill those people. I always have to kill someone.”

“I know.” Len stared down at their hands, thumb circling Barry’s knuckles.

“You can’t tell me you’re okay with that.”

“I’m okay with the Dillons. And their flunkies. I won’t mourn anyone like them.” He glanced up, finding whatever it was he kept looking for in Barry’s eyes and smiling. “If I’m around to keep your life organized and under control, maybe I can make sure those are the only types of people you ever need to hunt again.”

There would be more to it than that. This couldn’t go as well as Len hoped. It never did. Because eventually it had to end. But things between them finally felt like back during those first three weeks together, this was _better_ , and Barry did so love the way Len kissed him.

“S-so…” he peeled his fingers away and took a steadying breath, “back to investments?”

“Sure.” Len stood and reached down to help Barry up too. “But be honest. Those Apple shares. Were you there, in on the ground floor, or did you buy them recently simply because you could afford it?”

 

XXXXX

 

Len could have afforded whatever fancy meal he wanted that night, between the cash Barry had given him and the cut of the take in his bank account, but for some reason, they still ended up at Saints and Sinners.

“We have a nice suite at the Hilton. Why are we eating here?”

“Because Ray has a new lease on life now that we’re not leaving,” Sara said.

They were in their usual booth, which was easy to acquire, since the place was seldom packed. Sara sat beside Len, leaving Ray by himself with a nice clear view to Nora, who he kept gazing at like a lovestruck puppy.

“If that means you’re actually going to ask her out, great,” Len said, tossing aside his menu. He had it memorized anyway. “If not, I’d rather stop choking down greasy food every night. We should be enjoying some of that hard-earned cash.”

Ray didn’t even seem to hear him, on the edge of his seat, waiting for Nora to reach their table.

“You seem like you’re in a better mood,” Sara said.

“Things went really well with Barry today.” Surprisingly, wonderfully well.

Barry was tailing Roy Bivolo right that moment somewhere in the city.

“You’re smitten again.” Sara all but rolled her eyes.  

“Things were tense after we found out everything about each other. But now we know where the lines are, which parts weren’t lies.”

“You like Allen again?” Ray finally returned to the conversation.

“I always liked him.”

“You were pretty freaked last night,” Sara reminded him.

“Sometimes I still am, but I know we can trust him. And he trusts me.” Len covertly slipped the list of account numbers from his pocket to pass over the table toward Ray.

“What are these?” He snatched the list closer.

“The accounts where the Dillons moved Barry’s offshore money.”

Sara and Ray stared at each other, then at him.

“One of those belongs to their source. Barry wants to see if we can trace it.”

“Lenny,” Sara shifted in the booth to face him, “you realize that with these numbers, Ray could probably just hack into all of them, steal the whole take, and we could—”

“We’re not running. The real payoff will be worth it.”

And Len wasn’t going to betray Barry again.

Before Sara could protest further, Nora finally made it to their booth, and Ray shoved the account numbers away. They’d already put in their drink orders, each of them having a beer. Len’s was light enough that when Nora set it down with a napkin already stuck to it, he could see what looked like writing through the bottom of the glass.

If she was passing him her number, she was barking up the very gay tree, and Ray would be devastated. He was currently making a complete fool of himself, rambling like usual about his interests—advancements in nanotechnology this time, sounded like—which Nora smiled at in appeasement, but maybe she didn’t find it as amusing as she pretended.

Len hoped he was wrong, waiting to peek at the napkin until she’d taken their orders and left. Only once he saw what was written there, he really wished it had been a phone number.

_We need to talk, Mr. Wynters._

 

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falling asleep...
> 
> Sorry for the delay, but I'm back from vacation now and hope for more frequent updates. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with this one!

Len didn’t want to alert Sara and Ray that anything was amiss, but if Nora knew his alias with Barry, they were in trouble.

He waited until Nora disappeared into the back by the bathrooms, then excused himself to see if she was waiting for him. He didn’t see anyone at first, wondered if she really was just in the bathroom and someone else had slipped that napkin under his beer, but when he turned around to head back out to his friends, the Employees Only door behind him opened and a pair of hands wrenched him back into the dark.

Len was getting really sick of that happening in this bar.

He spun around to take a swing at his attacker, but a knife pressed to the side of his neck as he was slammed against the closed door.

“For someone who gets jumped on the regular and knows he’s being watched, you’re not very good at this,” an unimpressed voice spat.

It _was_ Nora, but she didn’t sound like the sweet waitress they’d known for the past—shit, _three weeks_ , just like Len’s time with Barry.  

“ _You’re_ behind this?” Len spat, holding still to avoid the sharp edge of the blade.

“Behind what exactly?” A wicked smirk curled around Nora’s lips, her dark eyes glittering with previously veiled mischief.

Len needed to get better at reading people, and he didn’t know how much she knew. He couldn’t come right out and ask: A _re you the one trying to frame the local vampire?_

“You hired the Dillons,” he said, sticking to what she must know if she knew the name Wynters.

“Not me specifically,” she admitted, “but my boss did, which means he basically hired you through them. And you are really throwing a wrench into our plans.” Keeping him at knifepoint, she got up very close and personal for someone so much shorter than Len. “You finished the heist but still went back to see Allen today. Why?”

“I… thought of a new deal with the Dillons that angles your boss out.” No point in making up another lie to keep track of. “Figured I could take Allen for even more than his offshore accounts.”

“Really?” Nora studied him carefully, finally adding, “Or did you learn that his bark isn’t nearly as bad as his _bite_?”

Len tried to keep from reacting. He really did.

“You _know_.” She chuckled. “And you still went back. Are you hiding teeth marks somewhere intimate, Mr. Wynters,” she glanced down his body, “or has he just got you that scared?”

For one terrifying second, Len wondered if Nora was a vampire too, but then she wouldn't be threatening him with a knife. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he fought to keep his voice steady.

She huffed, sliding the knife down his skin and up again. “Maybe you should wise up then, because you’ve seen the news, the bodies that keep showing up, haven’t you?”

“Barry had nothing—”

“You were supposed to be next.”

Len froze, suddenly much more concerned with that knife.

“That's right,” she purred, clearly enjoying Len’s fear. “The final nail in the coffin, as it were, to make sure the police suspect him.”

“You _are_ trying to frame Barry. Why? They’ll never be able to bring him in!”

Nora just kept grinning and tapped the blade a few times, making Len hiss as it finally cut into him. “We need updates, intel, so we can rethink our game plan. You've made the boss wonder if there's a better angle.”

“For what?” Len couldn't believe how much he wished Barry was stalking him again instead of Bivolo.

“ _Updates_ ,” she ignored the question. “The inside scoop on Barry Allen, what he knows, what he's planning.”

“I’m already doing that for the Dillons,” Len said miserably.

“Caught between a rock, a hard place, and a woodchipper.” She laughed, pressing the knife down hard enough that Len whimpered at how deeply it cut him. “Guess which one _we_ are?”

“Okay!”

“You keep coming here like clockwork and giving me updates, no questions asked.”

“I got it. Fine. Yes.”

“Good boy.” Seeming satisfied, she stepped back finally, taking the knife with her.

Len reached up instinctively to check the cut, pulling his hand away with a smear of red. “What am I supposed to tell my friends?”

“Whatever you want. You’re the one who put them on the chopping block. Should have told them to run while they had the chance. Now,” Nora shoved the knife at him, flat against his chest for him to scramble to keep it from falling and taking out one of his toes through his shoes, “I'm going to go bat my eyes at Ray a little more, and you’re going to keep quiet and play ball, or you or one of your friends will be the next body found by the police.” Grinning wickedly, she twirled her fingers in a dainty wave and pushed past Len out the door.

He threw the knife into the corner, wondering how the hell he was supposed to play triple agent when he’d finally calmed down enough to play double. Exiting quickly into the bathroom, he took a moment to wash out his wound, got a bandage from Charles behind the bar, and told the others back at their table that he'd scraped it on one of the stall doors.

“Might need a tetanus shot.” Sara snickered.

Len tried to laugh it off and act normal, but it wasn't easy, not with Nora smiling sweetly and oh so convincingly every time she neared their booth, prompting Ray to finally ask her out, and of course she said _yes_.

At least Ray was so busy celebrating his success, and Sara so busy patting him on the back, that neither noticed anything was wrong until long after they’d retired back to their hotel room.

“Maybe Chinese? Wait, no, is dinner too cheesy when we met at the restaurant where she works?”

“It’s a dive bar, Ray, not really a restaurant,” Sara said, enjoying the mixed drink she’d concocted from the mini bar.

“How about just dessert?”

She chuckled. She was lounging on the sofa in their suite’s living room, while Ray sat at the desk, multi-tasking on his laptop to research the account numbers, and Len sat in a very uncomfortable chair because he couldn’t imagine relaxing right now.

“Not like _dessert_ ,” Ray defended. "I mean real dessert!”

“And if she falls madly in love with you, what are you going to do when we leave town?”

“Long-distance relationships can work.”

Sara laughed outright, almost sputtering into her drink.

Len felt like he was going to throw up.

They had the SyFy channel on, playing a marathon of _The Twilight Zone_ , which seemed so apt, he almost would have laughed with Sara—if he wasn’t panicking.

His friends were still in danger and so was he. They were in worse danger, and he had no idea what to do. He didn’t know if he should call Barry, go onto the balcony and whisper and maybe Barry was there or would hear him, or if either of those options would result in the mystery psycho behind all this sending Nora in to slit his throat.

If Barry knew what hotel he was staying at, so did they.

“Len, did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

Sara righted herself on the sofa, drink in hand and brow scrunched. “I said, what do you think?”

“About Ray taking Nora for Chinese food?”

“That was five minutes ago. I'm talking about me and Ray looking into jobs while you're off cavorting and scheming all day. We're bored. We’d planned to be in Coast City by now, remember?

“I was thinking the mall, you know, have the chance for some last day ‘shopping’ once we're ready to hit the road. Maybe security and Geek Squad. One guess which is which.” She snorted.

“Sure. Yeah. Whatever.”

“Geez, Lenny, I thought you were back to normal. Is that cut really bugging you or are you just busy daydreaming about your murder boyfriend?”

That was a horribly accurate statement, but there were other murderers out there too.

“I'm kidding! Sort of. What is with you?” Sara pressed.

“How about tapas?” Ray said, completely in his own world.

“Oh my God, Ray!” Sara picked up a throw pillow and chucked it at his head, nearly clocking him in the face.

“Hey! I’m working over here, you know.”

Finally, a real smile twitched at Len's lips, but it couldn't find purchase. These were his best friends, his family, yet he’d been the one to push for the job when the Dillons first contacted them, he was the one working behind their backs with Barry, he was the one with yet another secret about the brutal deaths haunting this city.

But telling them couldn’t possibly make any of this better.

“Do you remember how we all met?” he asked, drawing their eyes back to him and their bickering to a halt.

“How could I forget,” Sara said. “Ray almost got his pretty boy face smashed in.”

Ray scowled, but she wasn’t wrong. They’d all been gangly and underfed back then, but while Ray had always been tall, he was the easier target. If he'd had any fight in him, he could have defended himself, but he just wasn’t the type.

All of them had been similarly new to the group home, friendly but not yet friends, when some of the older kids cornered Ray, picking on him, pawing at him, ready to beat him up. Len and Sara saw it happening, coming from different ends of the house. They were small but still scrappy, so when Sara barreled in with fists flailing, Len followed.

The other kids scattered. They tried twisting things by tattling to the adults, but Len did such a good job turning everything back to their advantage, crying and playing it up just so, that the older kids got harsher punishment and Len and his new friends got ice cream.

“That’s why you’re the face,” Sara said, “I’m the muscle, and Ray’s the nerd.”

“The _brains_ ,” Ray countered.

“Same difference.”

Between that first encounter and Ray’s usefulness fixing all their broken toys, they realized they made a pretty good team.

Maybe Sara could take Nora. But no, Len couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk telling them how deep the rabbit hole of being so royally screwed went.

“I was just thinking,” he said, pulling on a smile for their sakes, “we finally made it, and in a few weeks, we’re never going to have to look back again.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry kept looking back at the clock. Sometimes, he hated that he didn’t sleep. It made waiting for something unbearable.

“I’m here!”

Or someone.

Len, only five minutes early this time instead of fifteen.

Having foregone an attempt at a bowtie today or any of his sweater vests, Barry simply wore slacks and a button-down shirt, untucked. He could be casual and modern, but he looked forward to having Len dress him.

By shopping, not…

He pulled himself together to descend the stairs and greet Len. First, he had to update Len on what he’d learned of Roy Bivolo last night. Namely, that the man was dirt, and Barry was eager to kill him.

“Can I get you anything?” Barry asked as he met Len in the foyer, a little unsure of how to progress after their amorous encounters yesterday mixed with normal work.

“I'm fine,” Len said, stretching an obviously false smile across his face.

“What’s wrong?” Barry demanded, long past believing Len’s lying expressions.

Len bolstered himself as if ready to say it was nothing, but then he paused, sighed, and looked at Barry squarely. “Screw it. I know who's framing you.”

As it turned out, Len knew _one_ of the parties involved, but hearing about him getting accosted last night by that guilty party and that they’d planned to make Len the next victim made Barry's fists clench and his forehead twitch.

“They can't know I told you,” Len said, sitting with Barry at the kitchen island, nursing the cup of coffee he’d said he didn’t need. “I have to keep acting like I'm playing all sides.”

“Of course. I won’t let anything happen to you or your friends. I promised you that.”

Len relaxed finally, sagging onto his elbows, and Barry’s hand raised of its own accord to alight gentle fingers on the bandage on his neck.

“I won't tail Bivolo anymore. I'll—”

“No, you have to.” Len reached up to cover Barry’s hand. “If you watch me, they might catch on. We don't know who the ringleader is. He could be a vampire like you.”

Barry hadn’t wanted to believe that, but anything seemed possible now.

“Nothing has changed,” Len insisted. “I’ll give them intel like they want, make them think you know nothing, keep an eye on everything, and meanwhile, we keep trying to figure out who’s behind all this. Then we take them all out.”

“Then _I_ do,” Barry said.

Len nodded and slowly dropped his hand so Barry could pull away.

Normally, Barry was good at planning in a new city, but he’d never encountered a situation like this before. “What next?”

“Did you find out anything about Bivolo?”

“Yes.” Barry sneered. “He goes to a club on 47th. The girls he fancied barely looked eighteen. He spent most of the night there, in a back room with young women, drugs, and drink.”

“Classic creep.” Len grimaced in kind.

“I almost made a premature move against him when he got rougher with a girl than is allowed, but a bouncer intervened first.”

“You see why I won't mourn these people.”

“A few more nights will teach me his other haunts. I followed him home afterward. He keeps to himself when not with his partners. He’ll be easy to get alone.”

“Um… and how exactly are we going to do that when the time comes?”

“I will do it, Len. You don't need to be there.”

“But you can’t just kill him. It’ll raise alarm with the others. We need to think of the staging, the aftermath, make sure they don’t realize it has anything to do with us.”

“Who’s to say they won’t think it’s this Nora and her boss?”

That brought Len up short, and a sudden smile lit up his face. “That’s it. Everyone knows about the murders. If we get the Dillons thinking they’re being targeted, picked off by their former employer to clean house, we can get both sides to work against each other. They'll get sloppy, slip up more.”

“Giving us the perfect openings.” Barry smiled too. He'd never had someone to plan with before.

“I need intel I can feed them though, true things, so they think I'm getting closer to you.” Len’s gaze darted from Barry’s eyes to his lips. “Actually getting closer is a bonus.” After a pause, he leaned forward to kiss Barry very lightly.

Barry felt a shock of warmth and want surge though him. “You know so much already,” he said with a wider smile, “but there is one thing I haven’t shown you yet.”

Len looked wary but went willingly when Barry led him up to the library, behind the bookshelf that hid the secret staircase, and then down into the basement. He must have expected something vile or concerning, because he released a deep sigh at seeing what the basement held.

Some things down there were practical, like the extra washer and drier and small incinerator. But there was also an extra bookcase, not filled with anything published like the ones upstairs, but with volume after volume in Barry’s own hand.

“Journals?”

“From almost since the beginning.”

Len stared at him.

“Of my _life_ , not of time.”

There were a few other items, things normal people simply wouldn’t have, like photograph after photograph from past decades with Barry in them, always the same age in appearance, even one of him in front of Big Ben that matched the one upstairs. Barry had a dark room down there as well, and several old paintings and sketches on the walls in intricate frames.

Len took it all in with awe.

“You really wrote all these?” he asked of the journals.

“Pick one and read a passage,” Barry suggested.

Len quickly scanned the spines, grabbing a worn red-leather volume and flipping open to a random page. “‘I’d considered leaving New York’,” he read aloud, “‘but the newsies rallying has proven quite entertaining. Some of their protests linger into the twilight hours for me to witness, and I sympathize with their plight. They’re so young, so full of fire and a desire to be given everything they believe they deserve. It coaxes me out of the shadows just to be near them and to remember when I had something to be that passionate about’.”

Barry smiled, remembering that time well.

“‘Perhaps I’ll borrow that passion by helping some of the men hired to rough up these young boys into mysteriously going missing’.” Len snorted. “A crusader even back then, huh?”

“Like you implied yourself, if I have to feed, shouldn’t it be from people who deserve it?” It wasn't always, but Barry tried.

Len set the journal back on the shelf, studying him as if summoning confidence to speak his next words. “Can I ask you things about what you are?”

“You can.”

“Do you sleep?”

“I don’t need to anymore.”

“And the sun won’t burn you up, you said?”

“No. Prolonged exposure can be painful, but I can go outside without bursting into flames. Most of the other lore you’ve heard are superstitions people told themselves to feel safer.”

“Like needing to be invited into a person’s home?”

“Crosses, garlic, traveling over water.”

“Sleeping in a coffin?”

“Can you imagine?” Barry scoffed, pleased that it made Len laugh.

“Are you invulnerable?” he asked after a beat.

“Are you asking what my weaknesses are?”

“N-no, I just…”

“I’m only teasing. I heal quickly. I lost a finger once and it grew back. But I imagine if I lost enough blood, was beheaded, set on fire, things that would kill most people would still kill me.”

“Where are the other vampires?”

“Who knows? There aren't many of us. A few hundred years ago, those of us who were left agreed we wouldn't create any more without real purpose or reason behind it. It's too dangerous, brings too much attention on all of us, and honestly, most of us had no desire to.

“I don't think more than a handful have been created since then, if they're all even still alive. I used to keep in contact with a few, but especially in more recent decades, they've all gone dark. I think some decided they were done living.”

“And you?” Len asked, looking startled.

“I love life,” Barry assured him. “I never tire of anything. There’s always something new to enjoy, and so many old things I adore centuries after they’ve gone out of fashion. Like bowties.” He chuckled, making Len laugh again too. “But it is lonely sometimes.”

“I bet. _Centuries_ ,” Len repeated. “But there was never a vampire lover you wanted to keep with you forever?”

“No,” Barry said softly.

Len’s smile was unmistakable then, maybe because jealousy had prompted the question, but that was also when he cast another perusing gaze around the basement and landed on the most unique and prominent of Barry’s pictures.

It might not have stood out so much if there were others like it, but while there were many rough sketches Barry had drawn before he had the luxury of a camera, other than the few photographs of himself, this was the only picture of a person.

The sketch was simple black and white, drawn meticulously a very long time ago, of a young woman with fair hair and light eyes.

“Shall we go back up?” Barry said, noticing Len’s eyes linger. He wasn’t ready to talk about her yet.  

“Sure.” Len glanced back slowly. “We have a lot to do. But thank you for showing me this.”

 

XXXXX

 

Len was amazed by everything Barry had shown him, the trust he had in him.

He did wonder who that woman was though.

Their plan from now on was straight forward, at least for Len, mostly revolving around reporting separately to both Nora and the Dillons, while still attending to the job Barry had originally paid him to do—housework, grounds keeping, finances. It was comforting to dust and vacuum and clean the pool, monotonous and habitual enough to help Len clear his head and not think about how different all this might feel once Barry was ready to claim his first victim.

It was getting dark outside. Len had wanted to get most of his basic chores out of the way so that the rest of the week could be focused on how to best pit their two antagonist groups against each other. He was exhausted, probably because he hadn’t slept well in the past two days, but when he was ready to call it a night and looked around for Barry, he was surprised to find him outside, already in the pool. Len was usually gone before Barry took his swims.

He wasn’t doing any complicated strokes, just floating serenely on his back, arms gently moving to keep him up, while he gazed at the stars beginning to glitter above him. He’d left the patio door open as if to invite Len to watch, so it was easy to do so without calling much attention.

Barry didn’t look like a predator while swimming, his simple red trunks clinging to him, chest bare. Sometimes it was hard for Len to accept that dissonance— _this_ version of Barry compared to the swift, brutal one—but then, wasn’t a lion capable of seeming like a housecat even if it was always dangerous?

“Would you like to join me?” Barry called without turning to look at Len. “I have an extra suit upstairs.”

Len wondered if that made him the lion tamer.

The extra trunks turned out to be blue. Sara and Ray weren’t expecting Len at any particular time and checking in with Nora and the Dillons could wait until tomorrow.

Enjoying the way Barry’s eyes fixed to his mostly bare body, Len took his time walking to the edge of the pool and stepped off for a simple, smooth drop into the water. He shook the excess from his hair and face when he resurfaced, seeking out Barry at the other end.

“Tell me,” Len said, lifting up to float lazily on his back, “even without your telescope, how many of those can you name?”

“The stars? Or constellations?” Barry lifted up as well, both watching the sky as they orbited each other.

“Does it matter?”

“No. I can name most of them.”

“Then where am I?”

Barry navigated to drift up right beside Len, pointing and tracing over invisible lines in the sky, “Gemini. Sort of like two stick figures holdings hands.”

Len chuckled. “And you?”

“Pisces is there.” Barry dragged his finger the other direction. “See the way the ends connect and then it makes a sort of tilted V?”

“Doesn’t really look like a fish.”

“We had to be more creative back then.”

Blinking as what Barry was implying sunk in, Len righted himself, not sure if he could ask, “You mean…?”

“Kidding. I’m not _that_ old.” Barry grinned. He didn’t clarify how old he was, however.

“You now, one of these days, I’m going to get you up on that roof to use your telescope properly.”

Barry scrunched his nose. “I wasn’t lying about not caring for heights.”

“I figured. Any particular reason?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because there weren’t as many tall buildings in my time.”

“Which was…?” Len tried again, but Barry glanced away.

His bashfulness was adorable but also maddening. “Is this our first date?”

“If it was, would you tell me?”

“I said my age wasn’t a first date reveal, so…”

Len read Barry’s hesitancy and didn’t want to push. “Sadly, I don’t think this counts.” He smirked when Barry looked at him with a start. “We need to leave the house for a real first date.”

“We’ll have to start thinking about our raincheck then.” Barry smiled beautifully back at him.

Drifting closer, Len slid his hands around Barry’s waist to finally connect and pull him in. Even in the heated pool, Barry’s skin felt bracing. “I guess we will,” Len said and started to lean forward.

“Len,” Barry wrapped his arms around Len’s neck, but his hands fidgeted, and he held back from letting Len reach his lips, “you’re not only pretending because you think this is the only way to be safe from me, are you?”

“What?”

The idea that Barry could still expect treachery surprised Len, but then, Len almost had betrayed him again, scared as he’d been. Barry was the most powerful and deadly creature he’d ever met, but he was still vulnerable, still so human.

“According to you, I’m putting myself in _more_ danger by being with you. You gave me an out, Barry, and I chose to stay. I want to stay. Which is a fitting segue, actually.”

“Segue?”

Len smirked, not trying to steal another kiss just yet, but floating with Barry and running his hands up Barry’s back to keep him close. “Persephone was entranced by the Underworld,” he said, and Barry’s face lit up brighter, “the areas for the condemned and the lost, the Elysian Fields for those who’d lived well, darkness and light crossing over each other just like on Mount Olympus and just like on the earth too.

“She didn’t understand why so many condemned Hades and yet praised her, her mother, and all the other gods who actively caused the deaths of mortals. How could Hades look at her and still have offered to let her take up space in his home?

“‘How long can I stay?’ she asked, after Hades had shown her every expanse and nuance of the Underworld. ‘As long as you want,’ he said. ‘If you want.’ ‘But my mother will look for me. I’ll need to go back eventually and tread the earth when it’s time for Winter to end.’ ‘Then stay until then, and when the frost returns, if you wish it, you can return too.’

“Persephone considered the offer, relaxing with Hades in his personal rooms. He maintained a respectable distance always, unlike most younger gods, brutish and leering whenever she passed them. They each lay across their own sofa, facing one another, with food on a table between them.

“Persephone reached for a beautifully red, ripened fruit, but Hades cautioned her, ‘Eat of the Underworld, and you are bound to my bargain—you’ll have to stay, leave in the Spring and return every Autumn. This place isn’t meant for living mortals or other gods, so I am cursed to be alone or make deals for my company. Take your time and decide.’

“He might not have warned her, she thought. He might have let her eat and kept her all the same, but that was what made Hades different from Demeter or anyone else Persephone had ever met. He let her choose her own fate.

“She picked up the fruit, split it in two, and took a ravenous bite of the dripping seeds.”

Finally, drawing Barry closer again, Len punctuated the ending by capturing a deep kiss.

Barry shuddered against him, kissing back heatedly, their bodies becoming flush. Len lowered his hands over Barry’s ass to prompt him to wrap his legs up around his waist, but Barry gasped away with his eyes flickering yellow. “I-I thought… _you_ were Hades.”

“Can’t we both fit each role?” Len said fondly, softly. He moved his hands up again to give Barry reprieve but ducked in close to whisper beside his ear, “And when I say that, I mean it in every way you might want.”

Barry shuddered again. Len loved being able to get those kinds of reactions from him, believing it was well worth the risk to keep trying.

He lowered his lips to just below Barry’s ear and planted a sweet kiss. Then another. Then _another_ , letting his tongue dart out, all while rubbing his hands up Barry’s back and down again, seeking a sign that he could push further.  

Barry whimpered, and then growled like releasing a pleased purr. He dug his fingers into Len’s hair to hold him at his neck, encouraging him to keep kissing.

Smiling to himself at the role reversal, Len licked and bit down gently—until he felt Barry’s breath on his neck in turn and the light scratch of fangs. He froze, but the fangs didn’t press down. They dragged along his skin and pulled away, replaced with a tender kiss.  

Len kept licking at the salty remains of chlorine on Barry’s skin, sliding his hands down like before, but this time, he continued beneath the elastic and found the smooth skin of Barry’s ass.  

“I-I can’t.” Barry snapped away so fast, Len saw water treads between them. Barry’s eyes were clearly yellow, glowing in the dark of the backyard at night, the patio lights glinting off his fangs. “I’m sorry. I am. I want all of that, but it has to be slower. Much slower.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the inhuman aspects were gone.

Len closed the space between them, heart pounding, but he wasn’t deterred. His heart was mostly pounding from how good that had felt. “I’m sorry too. You’re just really hard to resist.” He smiled and slowly placed his hands back on Barry’s hips.

“So are you.” Barry leaned into the touch. “Although that is part of what concerns me…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Len said, cupping Barry’s cheek to reassure him.

“I want to be sure. Think about our date more, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” he said, even as he nuzzled into Len’s palm.

“Are you still going to tail Bivolo tonight?”

“I should.”

“Then, if we’re both getting out of the pool, we could rinse off together.”

Barry laughed, moving into Len’s body to embrace him, but then slowly pulling away. “ _Very_ hard to resist, but we better not.”

Len had never believed the idiom that something was worth the wait as much as he did that moment. “Okay, but I will be back tomorrow.”

“And the next day?”

“And the next,” Len said, though it would all stop eventually, wouldn’t it?

He wondered if there was a way for it to _not_ stop, but if he could be with Barry longer, what would that mean? What would he be willing to offer or ask for to stay?

Not yet ready to dwell on that, Len got out of the pool, rinsed off in Barry’s shower, put back on his clothes, and only after he was dressed, did Barry appear to take his place in the bathroom.

Len stole another quick kiss before Barry could get past him. The anxiety he’d felt on the way to the house that morning had almost rivaled the day before—and the day before _that_ —prepared, as he’d been, to lie to Barry again. He was so happy he’d decided to be honest.

There was still a risk, there was risk all around Len, but stealing touches and kisses made him feel like they could beat the odds and forces against them.

“May I join you?” Barry’s voice startled Len just as he’d been about to mount his bike. Barry had caught up to him, rinsed off and dressed at what must have been lightning speed.

“You mean, as a bat flying beside me?” Len joked.

“That’s a lie too,” Barry assured him with a light chuckle. “I mean, _with_ you. When we get close to town, I can simply jump off.”

“Jump off?” Len repeated. Barry had said he’d grown back a finger once, but that didn’t make it any easier to imagine. “I guess I don’t need to lecture you about not wearing a helmet.”

“I’ll be fine,” Barry said, climbing on behind Len with his usual bashful smile.

Len put his helmet on and kicked off onto the road. That chill always clung to Barry, and Len loved the way it felt pressed against his back, even through Barry’s clothes. He hung onto Len’s waist, an echo of what they would have shared if they’d had their real first date Friday night. This was different, but in some ways, better, with no lies between them.

The city lights were upon them far too soon.

“Whichever one of us is Hades,” Barry said, soft breath on Len’s neck at the edge of his helmet, “I’m glad we’re weathering this Winter together.”

It was Spring, but Len got the meaning. “Now is the winter of our discontent,” he called over the rushing wind.

“Made glorious summer,” Barry said and kissed Len’s nape.

Then he lept from the bike with a rush of extra cold striking Len.

He glanced back in surprise—he had to at least _look_ —and when he did, he swore he saw Barry standing there like he’d simply stopped time, before he vanished in a blur.

 

XXXXX

 

Barry wished the night would vanish in a blur but watching Bivolo was more grating than the night before. He knew it was necessary, but it would have been so much easier if he could have torn the man’s throat out.

Thankfully, maybe because it was Sunday, Bivolo didn’t stay out late. He stumbled home alone, confirming Barry’s hopes that he would be easy to take out once the time finally came. They just needed to leave the right trail, so their enemies conspired against each other instead of them.

Barry should go home. He could read, take out his telescope, swim again.

Or relieve some of the sexual tension building in his gut.

Len was just so careful with his kisses. So precise. Barry hadn’t been with a human since he _was_ human, and as much as he feared losing control, it was a wonderful thrill.

Zipping through the streets unseen, he just wanted to see Len again before he left the city. He made his way to the Hilton and up to the top floor balconies where Len and his friends were staying. He could just barely peer inside with the curtains drawn, but that’s all he needed, able to hear everything even with the balcony door shut.

The group had just returned from a late dinner.

“No more Saints and Sinners, I’m serious,” Len was saying. “Or at least not so often. You’re going to see Nora tomorrow on your date. You don’t need to stalk her.”

Barry felt a wave of guilt that he was basically stalking Len, but he only wanted to ensure his safety!

“Or maybe don’t go out with her at all.”

“Why so against Nora all of a sudden?” Ray asked, sporting a prominent pout, which was quite ridiculous on such a tall, well-built man. Barry appreciated the contrast, something Sara displayed too. Len wasn’t what he appeared to be either and that made Barry wonder if their contrasts were part of what had drawn them together, especially if they hadn’t fit anywhere else.  

“I’m not against her. I just think you should get to know her better.”

“That’s why people go on dates!”

Len smiled, subtly, just to himself, and Barry wondered if it was because of him. He liked to think it might be.

“Will you two drop it,” Sara said, reclining on the sofa with a stack of papers. “I want to turn in these job applications tomorrow. If I have to sit on my ass one more day listening to Ray wax poetic about his dream chick, I'm going to strangle him with his laptop cord.”

Ray scowled, but Len just smirked. That kind of harmless ribbing was what proved they were friends. Family. Barry had been that way once too.

With _her_.

“It’s not like I was mooning over Nora the whole time,” Ray defended. “I finished tracing those account numbers.”

“You did?” Len moved across the room to crowd Ray at the desk, looking over his shoulder at the laptop screen.

“They were all easy to find and hack into. If Allen’s plan is to screw over the Dillons and take all his money back, he’ll have no trouble.

“Well, except for one number. See that last one? I found it, it’s the only one that’s its own offshore account, but I can’t get inside. Someone who knows what they’re doing picked one hell of a secure bank. I might be able to get through all the firewalls eventually, but it’s going to take some time.”

“Do it. That’s the account we need,” Len said. “I’ll tell Barry tomorrow. Maybe he’ll recognize the bank.”

Barry didn’t; he could see the name and location from where he was spying.

“Anything to please ‘Barry’,” Ray droned sarcastically. “How come you get to complain about my dating choices, but everything’s fine and dandy with you dating him?”

“We’re not—” Len stopped himself short. “You don’t even know Barry.”

“Exactly. At least you’ve met my girlfriend.”

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

“ _Yet_. So, when do we get to meet your murder boyfriend?”

“Never if you keep calling him _that_.”

“You know, Ray’s got a point,” Sara chimed in, sitting up straight and dropping the applications on the coffee table. “When do we get to meet ‘Mr. Allen’? Unless you’re just using him and planning to hit and run when we’re finished?”

“That’s not what this is,” Len said without falter, and Barry smiled, not that he’d doubted anymore.

“Long distance relationship bros?” Ray reached up to offer Len a fist bump.

He swatted it away. “No. I don’t know. I’m not ready to think about that yet.”

“Then you don’t get a say about Nora.”

“Ray—”

“And I’ll keep working on _Barry’s_ project.”

“Fine.” Len turned with a huff, arms crossed as he leaned back against the desk beside Ray’s chair—aimed right at Barry.

Len couldn’t _see_ him, but Barry still took that as his cue to stop eavesdropping.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to think about what came next either, but it warmed his usually cold, still heart to know that Len really did like him.

Leaping from the hotel, Barry crossed the street without anyone being the wiser. He landed quietly in the alleyway on the other side, pausing to glance up toward Len’s room one last time before he headed home.

He heard a shuffle, sensing that someone was in the alley with him, but when he darted after the noise, the street proved to have too many pedestrians to pinpoint which one it might have been.

He should have listened to Len.

 

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me - 35, wow - and finally ready with this chapter I thought would be posted Friday, but I've been a little busy. 
> 
> More soon! Thank you to those still reading.

The first morning in too many days that Len entered the house without feeling distracted or agitated, and Barry was the one wringing his hands.

“What happened?”

Barry dove into a rapid-fire explanation of how he'd checked on Len last night. “Just to see you and make sure you were all right. I only lingered because your friend mentioned the account numbers, though I don’t know the significance of the one that stood out.

“Then I left, pausing in the alley across the street. Someone was there. They saw me but ran off before I could see who it was.”

“Another vampire?” Len asked, feeling a cold chill trickle down his spine.

“It couldn’t have been. We can sense each other when we’re close.”

“One of the Dillons then? Mardon or Baez watching me?”

“No, I know all their scents. This was someone new.”

“You know their _scents_?” Len startled at that. “Mine too?”

“Of course.”

“So, even if you weren’t following me, you could find me pretty much anywhere at any time?”

Barry's eyes widened, hands fidgeting in front of him. “I’m so sorry. That must sound terrible. I promise I’ll never spy again!”

“Barry.” Len smiled, stopping him with a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You were worried, and you didn't hear anything I didn't want you to.”

That, finally, made Barry smile too. “I couldn’t find you anywhere at any time. I'd still need to catch your scent first. It can take time moving through the streets, even at my speed.”

“It’s kind of nice, actually, knowing you could always find me eventually.” Len moved his grip down Barry’s forearm to take his hand and led him into the living room so they could sit. “Maybe it was just some random person you freaked out.”

“I hope so, but I don’t know. People don’t tend to lurk in alleyways near the Hilton, and this person was definitely trying to stay out of sight.”

“Like you?” Len teased.

“I’m so sorry,” Barry said again. “I put everything at risk by not listening to you.”

“It doesn’t matter now. If it was Nora or her boss, all they know is that you were looking in on me.”

“I’m usually better at this.” Barry continued to pout. “It’s basic rules. Don’t show your face where it might be suspicious. Don’t retrace your steps or return to the scene of the crime. And never leave behind evidence that someone might be able to use against you.”

Len paled as he realized he’d broken the rules too.

“What?”

“You were an idiot because you worry about me. I was just an idiot.” Len clenched his eyes shut and proceeded to remind Barry of his encounter with Nora, mentioning this time that, afterward, he’d thrown the knife away and left it there. “With my blood and fingerprints on it. I have to get it back.”

“But it’s been days.”

“It might still be there. Saints isn’t the cleanest of establishments. I’ll look for it when I check in with Nora later. She has her date with Ray tonight,” he sneered. “I was planning on seeing the Dillons too. They’re expecting me.”

Taking his phone from his pocket, Len showed Barry the text he’d woken up to that morning. 

_First check-in tonight or we’re pulling our investment. Same place._

“Someone seeing you doesn’t change anything,” Len said. “But I think our next move needs to be adding a little fear before Bivolo dies.”

“Fear?” Barry repeated, eyes darkening with the calm coldness of a predator seeping in.

“We’ll leave the house early today. As soon as the sun sets. Maybe even before, if you’re willing.”

“I might have to dig out those sunglasses. What are you thinking?”

“If you can find Bivolo from just his scent, maybe you can catch him before he meets up with the others. I have an idea.”

 

XXXXX

 

Len had a marvelous idea.

Barry was really enjoying having a partner.

He didn’t like killing good people. That was an occasional necessity he tried to avoid. But killing someone wicked—and the hunt leading up to it—was almost as pleasurable as Len’s kiss for luck before they parted at twilight.

It wasn’t often that Barry was outside while the clouds were still pink. He’d brought one of his cameras along, carefully secured around his neck, both for practical purposes and because he had a genuine desire to take photos of the city at dusk—from behind the safety of his sunglasses. They really did help.

He caught Bivolo's scent easily but detoured across the city, stepping from the shadows to make sure people saw him as he took shot after shot of the sunset through the skyscrapers. Then he retreated, disappearing just as swiftly, and was back to where he'd caught wind of Bivolo, just leaving a diner, headed in the direction of the meetup spot.

The photos and timestamps would give Barry an alibi if he needed one, but having his camera also allowed for some very unique noises to follow Bivolo down the street.

Normally, Barry would have stayed silent, but tonight, as the sky began to darken, he let his footsteps be heard and fiddled with the camera for those sounds to carry too.

Bivolo would slow every so often, growing wary of the clip of Barry's shoes or the whir of the camera’s focus spinning, and would turn to look. But each time, Barry slipped from sight, heightening his paranoia. Soon, Bivolo’s feet grew swifter, his agitation greater, and he took a turn down a different route, trying to lose Barry. He might have succeeded if Barry was human.

A few more blocks went by with Barry making sure his presence was felt, and then he pulled back to let Bivolo think he'd won. Visibly relaxing, Bivolo continued on a roundabout path, eventually ending at the warehouse where he was expected.

“Where have _you_ been?” Mardon barked the second he thrust open the door.

Barry liked this safe house; it had high ceilings for him to hide in the rafters and watch from above.

He took note of everyone present. Bivolo now, Mardon, Baez, the Dillons themselves, and Len, standing among them.

“Fuck you,” Bivolo spat. “I had a tail on me for twenty blocks!”

It was more like ten—that Bivolo knew about.

“Did you talk to someone?” Mardon turned on Len, shoving him in the shoulder. “Huh, Snart?”

“No. I’m here, aren’t I?” Len held his ground, even as he lied. “But if Bivolo was followed, that makes me wonder.”

“Wonder about what?” Rosa cocked her hip.

“That detective that lives next to Allen? He came to the house. They either think Allen is the murderer everyone’s been talking about or that he’s being framed. They don’t have enough evidence though.”

“Is he the murderer?” Sam asked coolly.

“Can’t be,” Len said, one of few truths he could tell. “All the people killed are connected to him, but he was with me when they died.”

“Our contact didn’t say anything about this,” Rosa sneered. “If they’re angling to get Allen arrested, we could have taken him for much more, long before Snart’s idea. I don’t like it.”

“You think _Midnight_ was tailing me?” Bivolo asked.

“Midnight?” Len repeated.

Fancy name, but it didn’t mean anything to Barry.

“You wouldn’t have noticed him if it was,” Sam said. “But he might have grunts who wouldn’t be as clean. What about Allen?” He turned to Len. “Who does he suspect?”

“He has no idea, at least not that he’s told me. He’s worried, but when I asked, he couldn’t think of any enemies who would want to frame him.” Another truth.

“Good thing you decided to be so opportunistic, Snart,” Sam sauntered closer to him, “or we might never have caught on. I don’t think we can trust Mr. Midnight as much as we thought.”

“Who is he?” Len asked cautiously.

“Honestly? No one knows, but his real name isn’t Midnight. We never met in person, but he made it clear it would be in our best interest to take the Allen job when he offered it. Remember Vincent Santini?”

“Drug and gun runner, right? He ran off about the time you came to town. Made sense to me since you would have fought over turf.”

“He didn’t run.” Rosa chuckled. “Who knows what really happened? But we got his finger in the mail as a nice incentive from Mr. Midnight, sporting the Santini family ring.”

Len didn’t try to hide how that disturbed him.

“Keep on Allen,” Sam said. “Let us know of anything new. If Midnight manages to get him flagged for murder, this could be our best payoff yet, right out from under both of them.”

“Except the part where I was being tailed,” Bivolo growled.

“Quit complaining,” Baez said. “Snart’s the one doing the dirty work. All Midnight would find tailing you is your shit taste in strip clubs.”

Bivolo flicked her off, though Barry knew how true that was.

“Midnight likes his payoffs too,” Sam said. “If he suspects anything, he’ll contact us first, and we’ll simply tell him we have no idea what Snart’s up to. You don’t have a problem with that, right?” He leered at Len. “It was part of your original offer, that you’d take any heat.”

“No problem at all,” Len said steadily.

They thought they had him, that they owned him, and because of that, they assumed they were untouchable. Bivolo at least had been shaken, but they’d all learn soon enough who they were really dealing with.

Dismissed finally, Len was free to leave, but as Barry watched, he saw something none of the others noticed, just a quick sleight of hand while Len passed a table.

Bivolo had been fiddling with a coaster, one of those simple cardboard discs any bar or brewery had. The warehouse had several from various locations and brands scattered about, even a few from Saints and Sinners, but Bivolo’s showcased a silhouette of a woman—with an address on 47th street.

Len’s deft fingers snatched up one just like it and slipped it into his pocket on his way out the door.

Out on the street, watching Len return to his bike, Barry couldn’t resist stealing a candid moment, careful that the camera was focused on Len with no discernible landmarks in the background, just brick and glass and Len’s lovely profile baring a smirk that matched Barry’s own.

 

XXXXX

 

Len bared a smirk almost until he reached the bar. He’d care about fingerprints on the coaster in his pocket, but the plans he had for it were benign enough that it wouldn’t matter.

The knife in Saints and Sinners, however…

His expression turned serious as he entered and scanned for Nora. Arriving early meant he had more time, but it also meant she might still be on shift.

No sign of her, so with a nod to Charles in greeting, Len headed for the bathrooms—and kept going right through the Employees Only door. It was a storeroom, he saw more clearly now, mostly dark with an emergency light on the other side where a different door led into the kitchen.

He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight to better see, hurrying to the corner where he’d thrown the knife.

Nothing.

“Wondering what became of that evidence you threw away?”

Len stiffened, turning slowly and frowning as he took in Nora, not dressed for work, but dolled up for her date in a nice blouse with curled hair. At least she wasn’t armed this time.

“Please, Snart, if we didn’t have that knife, we’d still have plenty to use against you.” She grinned wickedly.” Don’t beat yourself up too much. Now _report_. You know Ray’s going to show up all a twitter, nice and early for our date.”

Her smug expression made Len seriously wish he could punch her. “The Dillons are getting suspicious about the murders. They know your boss is behind it. Mr. Midnight?”

“Cute name, huh?” She rolled her eyes with a snort. “It won’t give you an advantage.”

“I’m just saying, Barry’s still clueless, but the Dillons aren’t. With Barry targeting them, they might think his retaliations are yours.”

“Big deal. They won’t find Midnight, and they don’t know about me. _Right_?” she stressed.

“I haven’t said anything,” Len told her, close enough to the truth—with the Dillons anyway, “but they’re not complete idiots. They figure Midnight has an accomplice. Why go to so much trouble? I don’t even get what you want from Barry.”

“Isn’t money enough?” she said evasively.

“If that was all, you would have taken what the Dillons gave you and left by now.”

Walking slowly up to Len as if she was twice her petite size, Nora said with clear threat in her words, “Stick to your job. I’ll worry about the Dillons. Just be happy they haven’t decided to take out the trash. Or that Allen hasn’t. But then, he really likes you, doesn’t he?”

Len wasn’t sure what she was angling for, but he wasn’t about to offer information he didn’t have to. “Barry didn’t kill me when I found out what he was. That doesn’t mean I have any of those cleverly hidden bite marks you mentioned.”

“Yet.” She grinned. “You go right ahead and keep having fun, Snart. I’m going to too.” Backing up, she gave a little spin to show off her date look.  

“Ray is a good guy,” Len said, feeling the urge rise again to punch her in the face.

“I know. Cute too. Sweet. Gullible. Perfect really. I’ll let him down gently when the time comes and leave him breathing. As long as you continue to behave.” She stared Len down in warning, and then turned and left.

After a moment to gather himself, Len left too. He heard Ray’s voice before he could crest the partition into the bar area, early like Nora had guessed. He held back, waiting for them to leave. Once Ray’s voice drifted off, Len followed but was careful to keep out of his sight, even as he spotted them heading down the street.

He felt vindictively powerful sneaking over to the mouth of the alley beside Saints and Sinners to pass the coaster he’d nabbed to Barry.

“No knife, but I think we’ll be okay,” Len said, not drawing any attention to how he spoke to the shadows. “Make sure she knows she’s being followed just like Bivolo, enough that she stops to look. Then leave this for her to find.”

“Well done,” Barry said, gently brushing his fingers against Len’s wrist as he took the coaster. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Len promised like always, and as he stepped from the alley, he saw Nora glance back and made sure she saw him heading in the opposite direction to where he’d parked his bike.

 

XXXXX

 

The sight of Len parking his bike in the driveway was becoming as habitual as their morning powwows in the kitchen or living room.

They were like clandestine spies, meeting in secret, discussing strategy and the movements of their targets. Of course, their targets knew they were meeting each day, so it wasn’t really in secret, but it still felt clandestine to Barry.

After several days of similar stalking, everyone was scared. Even Nora, much as she’d tried not to react when she found the coaster or anything else they planted in her path. Their enemies were growing anxious, but they all suspected each other, not Len or Barry.

They’d worked hard all week—and stolen several more intimate moments. Kisses, furtive touches, Len pressing Barry up against walls throughout the house, even another swim, but each time, Barry put a stop to things before they could get too heated, afraid his passion would stir to hunger.

As the week waned on, Friday now again, he was only getting hungrier.

“I wish Ray didn’t think Nora was so perfect, but I can’t tell him the truth,” Len said, watching Barry hang up the pictures from earlier in the week to dry in his dark room. “They’ve gone on two dates now and are going on a third tonight. He’s completely smitten. If he and Sara didn’t have those new jobs to keep busy, he’d probably hang out at Saints and Sinners all day.”

“His heart may be broken eventually, but we’ll keep him safe,” Barry assured him.

Len hummed noncommittally but soon said with a teasing chuckle, “You know, maybe one of these days you can take a picture of me when I’m paying attention.”

Barry had gotten quite a few impressive shots, but his favorite was the one of Len.

“Are you offering to pose for me?” Barry said, then blanched when he rethought those words. “N-not that I mean—"

“Barry, if you ever asked, I'd happily pose for you.”

Barry swallowed low, transfixed by Len's gaze. He made Barry feel _very_ hungry, which meant he couldn't possibly entertain anymore stolen moments until after he fed. He thought maybe Len had been avoiding the topic, even though a full week had passed since Barry's last meal—and discovering each other's secrets.

The doorbell rang before Barry could say anything, and they shared a smile at the familiar interruption.

Heading swiftly up out of the basement, Barry followed Len but let him answer the door since it wasn't yet dark outside.

“Iris. And hey, kiddos. What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Len. Is Mr. Allen home? I wanted to ask him something about the barbeque.”

“Sure, come on in.”

They'd already agreed that any more house calls from the West-Thawnes were to be met with friendly acceptance.

Barry stepped into the foyer as Iris entered with her twins at her coattails. “Mrs. West-Thawne, what a pleasure. And these must be your lovely children.” He shook her hand and smiled down at the curious five-year-olds eying the inside of his house.  

“Wow,” Iris said, but then shook herself to attention. “Sorry, it’s just that my husband described you well. I’m glad we can finally meet. It’s a little embarrassing though, since I’m here to ask a favor. Do you have an extra table we could borrow for Saturday? No matter how I look at it, I think we’re going to be one short.”

Barry had been trying to forget about the barbeque, but there was no avoiding it. “You know, I think I do, in the garage.” It was nothing special, just a basic table, which was why he hadn’t bothered finding a place for it.  

“I can show her, see if it’ll work,” Len offered. “You can handle the kids for two minutes, right?” His grin was teasing, like he expected Barry to panic at the suggestion.

Barry did no such thing. “I can. How about I give you two a tour.” He bent to their level, and they nodded eagerly.

Len led Iris through the dining room toward the side door that connected into the garage. Barry had a car for appearances sake, but he rarely used it. Meanwhile, he brought the children the other way into the living room.

“Don’t worry about not touching anything,” he said. “I’m not strict. Why have possessions if you don’t plan to enjoy them. But a few pieces are fragile, okay?”

They barely responded, too preoccupied looking over the radios, photos, and odd vase, clock, or figurine. They stopped at an old wooden chest against the wall, expensive and old with intricate carvings, but it was very heavy, which was probably why it hadn't been on Len’s to-steal list.

“Do you want to know what’s in there?” Barry asked, crouching beside them.

They nodded like before, still wary of him and shy.

“Go on, but be careful, the lid is very heavy.”

Working together, the twins lifted the latch and brought the lid up, revealing a collection of additional photographs. Some of them Barry might still put up somewhere, mostly from the past few decades of landscapes and cities like the others.

The children seemed disappointed, not interested in mere photos, but Barry reached inside to grab onto the false bottom they rested on.

“This chest holds a secret. It’s actually much deeper than it looks.” He set the shelf aside, allowing the children to peer in at his most prized comic books at the bottom in plastic sleeves and stacked in neat piles. “I have more in storage, but these are my favorites.”

“You like Spider-man?” Dawn asked in awe, gazing at the cover of Amazing Spider-Man #42, with Mary Jane's iconic first appearance and the quote:

_"Face it, Tiger, you just hit the jackpot."_

“I do,” Barry said. “Superheroes are like modern myths, epic stories of good against evil with lessons to be learned, and all with very pretty pictures. Spider-man’s my favorite,” he added in a whisper, making the twins smile finally as they agreed. Barry liked Spider-man’s sense of humor and penchant for bad luck that made him more relatable.

The children continued gazing at the stacks as if the comics were treasures to be delved into.

Barry grabbed the book on top, revealing an identical copy below it. “I actually have two of this one, so I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to borrow it, as long as your mother says it's okay.” He held the book out to whichever twin would be brave enough to grab it first.

Joey started to, but Dawn was faster than her brother.

“Hey!” he protested.

“And as long as you share,” Barry said.

Dawn let Joey take a corner, both looking reverently at the comic.

“If your mother says yes, you can take it home and look at it out of the plastic. I'd like you to take good care of it, but if something happens, I won't be mad."

That seemed to put them at further ease, and eventually, Dawn let Joey hang onto it alone while they turned from the chest to explore the rest of the room. It didn't take long for them to part the curtains to the patio and find the pool outside.

“Can we see it?” Joey asked, both children rushing back to take Barry’s hands and drag him toward the doors.

With their shyness forgotten, a strong waft of their scent struck Barry, and he felt his mouth water. Children smelled different from adults, fresh and new without the pheromones of adolescence, like they'd taste different too, sweeter, however less robust.

Barry shook his head. He was definitely too hungry.

“I-I don’t know if I want you getting close to the water without your mother,” he said, resisting their pull before they could yank him right outside. “Bright light hurts my eyes, so I only swim at night.”

“Can we swim during the day?” Dawn asked excitedly.

Barry laughed. “Well…”

“Kids,” Iris chided, returning with Len.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Barry said, dislodging from their hold finally. “It’s spring, warming up every day. As long as you gave me fair warning, you can bring the children over and use the pool sometimes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Mama? Can we?” Joey pleaded, and Dawn parroted him.

“Please, Mama?”

“We can’t today, and tomorrow’s the barbeque, but… maybe another day, if Mr. Allen really doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all. And call me Barry.”

Len gave him a warm, satisfied smile. The kids were ecstatic, and Iris looked like Barry had given her a wonderful stress relief for the busy summer ahead.

“Thank you, Barry. For the table too.”

“And the comic!” Joey held it up with a grin.

“Comic?” she questioned.

“If it’s all right?” Barry could tell she was charmed by him and let them keep the comic book, to be returned tomorrow at the barbecue so they wouldn't wreck it.

Len had already helped Iris load the table into her father’s truck that she’d borrowed, and after they left, Barry felt Len’s eyes linger on him.

“What?”

“You’re pretty good with kids, too.”

Barry just wished they didn’t smell like appetizers.

That thought made him very aware of the time, of the sun close to setting, and of his growing hunger that made Len smell appetizing too.

“You had some of your comics in that chest the whole time? I need to be a better thief.” Len’s light chuckle cut off abruptly, as he looked at Barry’s stiff expression. “What is it?”

“It’s time, Len. I know where Mr. Bivolo will be tonight, judging by his patterns—back at the club on 47th.”

“Tonight?” Len’s mirthful expression vanished.

“I’m hungry. Best not to tempt that.” Barry looked back to the front doors as if to indicate the family that had left.

“R-right. Okay.”

“I'll carry it out exactly as we planned.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Barry snapped back to him. “You don't have to. You don’t need to see me like that.”

“I know,” Len said determinedly, “but I'm coming with you anyway.”

 

XXXXX

 

Len had to go with Barry. Even if what was about to happen made his pulse ratchet like it was a week ago all over again.

Barry was meticulous in how he prepared for the evening ahead, choosing a simple outfit and warning Len as well, “Wear as little extra clothing as possible. No jacket. Less chance of leaving evidence behind. You'll park your bike at the Hilton, so it’s assumed you were there all night, and I'll pick you up.”

“In your car?” Len questioned.

“No.”

“But the Hilton is across town from where Bivolo will be.”

“I’m aware,” Barry said with a smile.

All Len could think about then was Barry whisking him through the city at hyper-speed, which at least helped him to not think about what they were about to do.

Bivolo deserved it. He was a terrible man who’d done terrible things. Len had investigated their backgrounds, and every single one of them had assault charges, worse in some cases, just not full convictions for murder. That didn’t mean they hadn’t committed any, and even if they hadn’t…

They deserved this. They all did.

The ride into town felt strangely short, Len suddenly already at the Hilton, parking in the underground garage, where cameras easily caught him. He went into the stairwell, finding a blind spot from security as he waited for Barry.

The only warning he got was two whispered words, “Hang on.”

The lurch in Len’s stomach was like the drop from a rollercoaster, a mad rush of speed, with nothing but the haze of city lights and motion all around him. He was conscious only of Barry’s chill and clawed for purchase as if he might drop any moment, finding Barry’s neck and clinging tightly.

When they came to a stop, they were on a rooftop, looking down at Bivolo’s favored strip club from across the street.

Len teetered as Barry released him, afraid he might throw up once his stomach caught up to him, but Barry’s hand settled at his waist, the other at the back of his neck, and the cool touch chased away any nausea.

“Are you okay?”

“We’re going to have to do that more often,” Len said.

The smile Barry graced him with was lovely, but as they started to drift closer together, he took a breath like catching Len’s scent, and his eyes flickered yellow.

“B-better not,” Barry said, drawing away.

That was when Len realized—it was probably safest to be with Barry just after he fed.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Len?”

“Y-yeah. I just want to be sure we do this right.”

“I can smell him, but I’ll check to make sure he’s inside. When he heads home, we’ll follow and end this, right in his apartment.”

That was the plan. They wanted Bivolo to be found so both sides suspected the other, which made it even more important that they did everything carefully, because they wouldn’t be destroying all the evidence, only everything that pointed at them.

Barry vanished and returned in moments to report that Bivolo was indeed enjoying one of the back rooms of the strip club. They settled in to wait, and Len thought this would be the hardest part, like the proverbial pot about to boil. But, like the ride into town, it was over quickly, and Bivolo was soon exiting to stumble unsteadily down the street. His apartment wasn’t far, and that was indeed where he was headed.

For once, Len got to experience tailing someone from Barry’s perspective. Suddenly, they’d be down one alleyway or another, on different rooftops, behind different buildings, always out of sight but within view of Bivolo. When they finally reached his building, the coast clear down his hallway, as soon as he unlocked and opened his door…

“Ready?” Barry whispered.

“Ready.”

…Barry zipped them inside, hiding in the shadows, but leaving Len standing in Bivolo’s living room.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Bivolo slurred, slamming his door shut behind him.

“If you know anything more about Midnight,” Len said calmly, “now is the time to tell me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bivolo laughed, taking out his handy switchblade with a snap.

“Anything at all could go a long way to making this easier on you,” Len warned.

“You got some nerve, coming in here, not even armed,” Bivolo scoffed at him in just jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. “I don’t know shit about Midnight, but even if I did, I’d still carve up that pretty face before I told you anything.” He lunged forward with a snarl, taking an angry, drunken swing, but Len didn’t bother dodging.

Bivolo’s hand froze midair, his wrist snatched up by Barry.

Eyes glowing and fangs already extended, Barry squeezed Bivolo’s wrist so hard, Len heard bones crack. Before Bivolo could cry out or his fingers could slacken on the switchblade, Barry swung his arm down, still holding Bivolo’s wrist, and stabbed into his side.

Bivolo tried to scream, but Barry spun him so fast and slammed him up against the wall with such force that the sound knocked right out of him. His eyes blinked in disbelief, staring at Barry’s monstrous face.

“My apologies,” Barry snarled. “I don’t usually cause my victims unnecessary pain, but we need to make this look believable.”

He swooped in to bite Bivolo’s neck and twisted the knife in the same motion, Bivolo’s scream once again getting lost, though he managed to sputter.

“The fuck… Wh-what the _fuck_?” He tried to push Barry off, but Barry was an immovable wall.

Len watched from the same spot Barry had left him, in the middle of the room but still only a few feet from where Barry was feeding, much tidier than last week, not spilling a single drop.

Until he yanked the knife free to let Bivolo bleed out onto the floor.

“We don’t want them questioning how much blood you’ll be missing,” Barry said, swinging the knife up, still in Bivolo’s hand with Barry’s wrapped securely around it, and sliced through his bite marks to hide the puncture wounds. He returned then to drink from the pulsing gash, finally letting the knife drop.

Bivolo’s glazed eyes found Len and stayed on him, pleading silently through his pain and surprise for Len to help him. Len wouldn’t, of course, even if he thought this was wrong or cruel, but he kept waiting for the freak out to hit him.

His stomach was in knots, pulse racing, breath coming in pants, but it wasn’t like last week. Back then, he’d feared for his life too. Now, he knew he didn’t have to. 

Barry drank slowly, but Bivolo’s eyes eventually went blank, and Barry dropped him in his own puddle of blood. Once again, Len saw satisfaction and sated desire on Barry’s face, as he licked his lips clean, the only blood on him being a little on his sleeve.

“Did you touch anything?” He turned to Len with his eyes still glowing.

“No,” Len said.

“Then stay still.”

Barry seemed to move around the apartment in a blur, and when he’d finished, he stood beside Bivolo’s body, wiping the handle of the knife clean before dropping it again.

“The only fingerprints left are his. Len? Are you okay?”

Reality snapped back into place, Len unsure of the passage of time, but Barry was Barry again as he came over to him, with hazel eyes and a concerned scrunch to his brow.

“Yeah,” Len said, surprised maybe, but honest. “I’m good.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry was so, so good.

All the drink and drugs hadn’t soured Bivolo’s blood. It had still tasted amazing, and Barry felt that wonderful ecstasy he always did after feeding. He kept waiting for something else to sour the evening, for Len to admit he couldn’t handle what Barry was or seeing him take someone’s life again.

Barry brought them back to his home to clean up. Len’s bike was still at the hotel with footage of him going inside and never leaving. They were ghosts, with no proof that they had been anywhere else at all.

But Len was quiet. 

“Would you like to shower?” Barry asked.

“Do I need to?”

“No. There’s nothing on you, but we should still wash your clothes to be sure.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

They went to the basement and stripped down to their underwear to load the clothes into the washer. Barry thought it would be impolite to stare at Len’s bared form, because while they’d seen each other in swim trunks, the tight fit of boxer briefs left far less to the imagination.

Then again, Len had already seen Barry naked, and the memory of that made him blush. He reddened further when he realized Len was staring at _him_.

“Are _you_ going to shower?” Len asked.

“Just to rinse off. Len—”

“I keep waiting to feel afraid again,” Len cut him off, calm despite his words. “To be disgusted or horrified. Is there something wrong with me that I’m not? That all I want to do right now is kiss you?”

Barry straightened in surprise, but whatever hammer he’d feared might fall, that Len had apparently feared too, didn’t seem to be coming. “No. We ended an evil man, giving me something I needed and keeping you safer. It isn’t wrong not to mourn him.”

Len nodded like he knew that but was still conflicted by his lack of…feeling conflicted. He stepped closer to Barry with clarity solidifying in his gaze, as the washer filled the basement with white noise. “I think I like how terrifyingly powerful you are, and that you can still be so gentle with me.”

“W-well… you’re worth being gentle for,” Barry said, grasping Len’s hand before his nerves could get the better of him to lead them back upstairs.

He still wanted to rinse off in case he’d missed any errant spots, but he didn’t want to lose sight of Len yet. He even left the bathroom door open a crack. When he returned from the shower a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist, Len sat on the bed with his phone beside him, looking bemused.  

“My calendar just reminded me.”

“Of?”

“We need to make a pie for tomorrow.” Len huffed a laugh.

Barry laughed too. “Tonight?”

“I'd have to come over pretty early in the morning. Or…”

“Or?” Barry approached him slowly.

“Or I could stay.”

“Or you could stay,” Barry repeated.

“So, I'll tell my friends not to expect me?” He waved his phone at Barry.

“You can message them in a minute.”

Barry got closer, and when Len parted his legs, he walked right between them. He took the phone and set it aside, and then grasped Len’s face to kiss him. He wasn’t hungry now. If there was ever a time when Barry believed he could control himself, it was this moment.

Len clutched his waist, and as they kissed, he tugged the towel loose to let it fall to the floor. Barry felt his face heat up, knowing he was naked now between Len’s legs, but he didn’t pull away. He tipped Len back and started to climb onto the bed.

Len scooted up the mattress, trying to keep in contact with Barry’s mouth, but they had to part eventually to situate themselves. He stared up at Barry hovering over him and looked down the full length of his body. Barry wanted to look at Len the same.

Reaching for Len’s underwear, he waited for a sign that it was okay, and Len’s frantic nod was clearly permission. Barry slid them down Len’s legs and tossed them to the floor. He was so beautiful, every human scar and mark and tantalizing tan line.

Len grabbed Barry by the back of his neck to drag him in for another kiss, Barry’s body finally lowering and settling on top of Len. The slide of their bare bodies made Barry tremble. They writhed against each other, rolling to be side by side, and Len’s hand drifted down to take hold of Barry between them. Barry thrust up into his grip, feeling a growl build in his throat.

“You can do this. I’ll show you,” Len said, rolling them further until Barry was on his back, and then he slithered down to get between Barry’s legs.

Barry’s eyes sharpened, flashing yellow, he could feel it, his fangs growing no matter how hard he tried to keep them back, but he thought, this time, maybe he could keep it to just that. Len looked at him and had to see it all, his bestial side, but it didn’t make him flinch or pause for even a moment as he descended to take Barry into his mouth. 

Barry roared and clutched at the sheets. It had been so _long_.

He was uncut, and Len quite the opposite, but that didn’t give Len pause either. He used his tongue with delicate reverence around the skin, down beneath Barry’s balls, and up to his tip, where he took him in deeper again and sucked hard.

It was glorious, how reverently and fervently Len attended to him, but Barry didn’t want to come like this. He wanted to pleasure Len too.

Coaxing Len upward, Barry grasped his shoulders and flipped them again, careful as he kissed Len this time since his fangs were still out. He didn’t trust himself to tend to Len in kind, but the wetness Len had left between them made it easy to grind together with a smoother slide, and Barry licked his hand to add his own wetness before reaching between them like Len had.

He gripped Len first, his long fingers stroking firm and slow, and then speeding up as he took hold of himself too and thrust against Len’s hip.

“Shit… I’m not gonna last long,” Len huffed, neck arching as he pressed his head back into Barry’s pillows.

Len was shaking within their desperate, messy rutting, and so was Barry. He wanted to slow them, and he started to, at first with the speed of his rocking, but then he parted Len’s legs and lifted them, still keeping their cocks aligned.

“We won’t get as far as I’d like,” Barry said, face aflame even as he said this, “but I want a preview of how you’ll moan once we do.”

He brought his fingers to his mouth, but Len stopped him and brought those fingers to his mouth instead. He sucked them in between his lips, and Barry thrust harder against him at the reminder of where those lips had been. Once the fingers were sopping, Len released them, and Barry brought them down to tease Len as promised.

Barry started a slower rhythmic rocking with their cocks connected, as he penetrated Len. The first knuckle prompted a whimper, but the second brought out the moan Barry wanted to hear with a wicked twist and curl inside of Len.

Again, Barry growled. Part of him, he could admit, wanted to devour every inch of Len, but focusing on giving him pleasure, even as Barry took his own too, kept him steady.

Len tempted him so terribly, moaning louder with Barry’s gentle thrusts and grabbing the back of Barry’s neck again for another kiss. It was strange to kiss someone with his fangs out when the other person didn’t have fangs of their own. It forced Barry to be careful, helped him keep his nature in check, even as he pulled away to sniff along Len’s neck and dragged his fangs down the skin in sheer pleasure. Barry didn’t bite, and Len didn’t flinch, and it was all so wonderful.

He was getting close again, his thrusts increasing, but he wanted to get a second finger in Len and kept a steady pace until Len was open enough for that other digit to breach him. They were both moaning then, because they were close, closer, almost, _right there_ —

Len came first from the twin sensations of their rocking and Barry’s fingers inside him, and Barry wasn’t far behind. They kept rocking into the mess that stained them until their panting slowed and Barry finally pulled his fingers away.

He felt his eyes dim and his fangs retreat as he rolled away to lie beside Len in the sticky afterglow.

“I told you… you could do it,” Len said with a laugh, making Barry chuckle too.

“I’d like to finish that thought sometime though.” Opening Len up and taking him fully.

“That is definitely happening. But for now…” Len tilted his head to gaze at Barry with a heartfelt smile. “Is all that hunger sated?”

Barry had to admit, “Very.”

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know you're still enjoying the ride. Thanks so much!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sick all last week, pretty much immediately after my birthday, and then had a migraine the past few days, but somehow, I've still managed to finish this. ^_^
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting, it truly makes my day and inspires the next chapters.

Len found Barry’s bed unbelievably comfortable. Though that was probably because it was never used.

He woke up at that perfect natural pace of having had a good night’s sleep, with the sun coming in through the curtains. That made him blink more fully alert, because even though the sun was only just rising, Len wasn’t used to Barry having his curtains parted even a little.

“Oh! Good morning,” Barry’s voice drifted from the dresser. “Is the light bothering you? I thought you might prefer it. I don’t really know much about morning etiquette anymore.”

Len took in Barry’s figure slowly, still letting his mind catch up to his body. Barry was dressed in one of his less garish cardigans, fussing in the drawers for a second set of clothes like he’d been sifting through options for some time.  

He’d let the sun stream in _for_ _Len_ and now he was trying to pick out an extra outfit for him to wear since his was being cleaned. Len wondered if Barry had switched the clothes from the basement washer to the dryer but figured he probably had—and who knows what else—since he didn’t sleep.

Stretching out on the spacious bed, Len took note of being still very much naked, regardless of the sheets covering him. “I can’t think of a better way to wake up. Unless you were in this bed with me.” He grinned.

Smiling back at him with a faint blush, Barry went to the window first to block out the light, and then prowled toward the bed. “I can undress again, if you like?”

“Mmm…” Len hummed as Barry crawled up the bed to join him, trapping him to the mattress. “Tempting. I don’t suppose you went ahead and made that pie?”

“That falls under your duties.” Barry scowled at him, and Len chuckled.

“Then you’re going to have to let me up.”

“In a minute,” Barry said softly, leaning over Len to kiss him.

Even with Barry clothed, it felt amazing to have him on top like that while Len was nude beneath the sheets, teasing his skin with the gentle slide of cotton. Barry’s hands weren’t nearly as tentative as they used to be, sliding down Len’s body to pull him close.

“I could get used to this,” Len said.

“Me too.” Barry settled comfortably atop him and gently stroked the side of his neck. “Though we need to be more careful. I left marks. Faint but still noticeable.”

Len reached up to feel them too, but they were just two light scratches where Barry had dragged his fangs. They blended right in with where his knife cut had been. “The perils of gardening,” he said, since it was as good of an excuse as any.

Barry snickered, before kissing him again, but as they started to deepen the embrace, Len bucked his hips up into Barry, and the familiar flash of yellow overtook his eyes.

He took a breath and slid carefully away from Len. “W-we better focus on baking. Your clothes are done, but I thought you might want something new to wear.” He indicated the jeans and blue button-down that Len had no problem borrowing. They were close enough in size.

“Thanks. I want to jump in the shower quick,” Len said, snatching his phone from the nightstand, “while you start getting out everything I need to make that pie.” He had a recipe on his phone, but as he brought the device to life, he noticed a few missed messages.

“Is it the Dillons? Did they find Bivolo’s body?”

“No. They might not even notice he’s missing for a couple days. These are from Sara.” Len pulled up the messages as Barry peered over his shoulder.  

 _Hope you had a fun night, Romeo_ , was first.

Followed by, _Ray sure did._

“Urg,” Len groaned. “Third date rule apparently.”

“Third date?” Barry questioned, then seemed to seriously consider that. “What does it mean that we technically haven’t had our first?”

“That we both really wanted it,” Len said, setting his phone aside to pull Barry close again and kiss him soft and slow. “And like you said, we still have to…finish the thought.”

Barry shuddered against Len. “I-I’d like that. But we should wait again. To be safe.”

“Are you that worried?” Len asked, running his fingers through Barry’s slightly mussed hair. He didn’t look like a predator lying in bed beside Len like this. 

“When it comes to your safety, Len, I will always put caution first,” Barry said. Then smiled. “But we can see how things go, as long as we’re careful. Now,” he reached across Len to grab his phone for himself, “do we even have everything you need for this pie?”

 

XXXXX

 

They did have everything Len needed—save the rhubarb, which was planted in the yard, which Barry refused to retrieve since he was already going to be outdoors for longer than he liked today.

“Do you tan that badly?” Len teased, fresh smelling and looking very smart in Barry’s borrowed clothes when he came back in with the red ripened stalks. “Burn?”

“Implode,” Barry muttered, but when Len’s eyes widened, he thought better of the joke. “Not really! The redness might become noticeable after too long, but it’ll go away after I’m indoors. It just hurts.”

After setting the rhubarb in the sink, Len turned to him with a frown. “I’ll keep an eye on you then, make sure you don’t get too baked. We’ll save that for the pie. I wish we didn’t have to go at all, but it’ll only help your image.”

“I know. Now, how can I be of help?” Barry perched on the kitchen island, looking over the ingredients and supplies he’d set out.

“Wash and chop the rhubarb?” Len said.

That was an easy task given Barry’s speed, and he set to work, a blur around the kitchen, already finished with a pile of rhubarb pieces before Len had even started measuring sugar.

“And yet I still do all the chores.” Len shook his head.

“I pay you,” Barry reminded him. “And just because I’m quick or good at something doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” He meant for more than just menial tasks, and he thought Len understood that, because he paused and looked at him with a somber expression.

It was a bit of a lie, because when it came to someone like Bivolo, Barry did enjoy what he was and what he did.

“Sometimes I enjoy it,” he spit out before Len could go back to baking. “I did enjoy it. I do. I need to know you understand that.”

A stillness settled over Len like a wave of reality crashing around his shoulders. He dumped the sugar into the bowl and set the measuring cup aside. “I didn’t only take this job—the original job to steal from you—because I don’t have other prospects or needed the money. I did need the money, but I like being a thief. We said this could be our last job if we made enough to move to Coast City, start over, but a part of me always planned to return to old habits, at least for the thrill.

“Carrying out a plan, getting one over on someone, especially a bad someone, can be pretty fun. You’re the first person I felt guilty over.”

“Len,” Barry said, catching his wrist before he could reach for the next ingredient. “Stealing and killing people don’t exactly compare.”

“I know.” Len looked at him squarely. “But I enjoyed it too. Last night. It felt…justified. If things had gone differently and you’d killed Eddie—”

“I would have felt awful,” Barry said, thinking of those children, his lovely wife, his lovely _self_ , merely trying to do his job and be a good neighbor.

“That's good enough for me.” Len smiled and pulled his hand away to go right back to the pie. “Pre-heat the oven for me?”

This couldn’t last, Barry told himself to make the inevitable blow softer, but every passing moment with Len made him wonder if it could.

While they waited for the pie to bake, they remained in the kitchen, discussing tactics for the barbeque: keep Barry in the shade or inside whenever possible and mostly just be a charming neighborly presence.

“We can enjoy ourselves,” Len said. “It doesn’t have to be an act. Let’s have fun.”

“And if someone questions our relationship?” Barry asked.

“I don’t mind being honest if you don’t.”

That was an unfair answer, because it passed things back to Barry to define what they were. “Our professional relationship got away from us, and…we’re exploring options?”

“Hoping we’ll eventually move on from hand-stuff to an actual date.”

“Len!” Barry sputtered.

His smile and gentle chuckle always made the hardest of this seem easy. “I’ll try to avoid saying that part out loud,” Len said, scooting closer to Barry where they sat at the island to draw him in for another kiss. That part was getting easier too.

Once the pie was finished and cooled, Barry made sure he had his sunglasses and that he was dressed coolly but in long sleeves, and they used his car to cross the short distance to the neighbors. It was not an overcast day, and being so close to noon now, the sun was high and painfully hot and glaring for Barry. He gritted his teeth regardless and painted on a smile.

The West-Thawnes were the closest house to his, but there were several other homes that could be considered neighbors, and all of them appeared to be in attendance. Along with dozens of children and many, many police officers.

“Mr. Barry! Mr. Len!” Dawn and Joey ran over to greet them, Joey wearing a T-Rex shirt, and Dawn a sundress with what appeared to be nondescript monsters all over it.

Len’s hands were busy with the pie, so each child grabbed one of Barry’s hands to drag them toward the food tables.

“We took good care of your comic, Mr. Barry!” Dawn said.

“No jelly stains or nothin’!” Joey chimed in.

Barry had to laugh. He wasn’t used to having children hanging on him, in the middle of the day, putting so much attention on him. Then he realized that a lot of attention was on him. The neighbors must all realize who he was—or it was just the cops recognizing him as a recent suspect in a murder case.

“Don’t tear his arms off!” Eddie called, hurrying over to save them. “I'm so glad you both could make it.”

It was the first time Barry had seen Eddie out of a suit. He looked very young and rugged in just jeans and a T-shirt, and every bit the family man as he scooped up both kids and hung them over his shoulders, to which they giggled wildly.

Barry understood why Len was so taken with this family. He didn’t want to see any harm come to them either, especially not because of him.

“Help yourselves to food,” Eddie said, setting the kids down to go running off to join the other children. “Iris has drinks inside. I’m sure she’d love to give you a tour. Which we haven’t had of your place yet!” He patted Barry’s shoulder in jest.

“Oh! You haven’t, have you? That makes me feel like a terrible neighbor,” Barry said. “We’ll have to remedy that sometime. Maybe when you bring the kids over for a swim.”

“Iris mentioned that. Are you sure? Let those kids over once, and they’re going to move in.” He was clearly enjoying being host, bright and boisterous. “You might recognize some of the other neighbors, but that’s Iris’s dad and her brother over there.” He gestured to a handsome older black man and a younger man about college age. “I’m sure some of my family is around too. The rest are coworkers, so sorry it’s mostly cops.” He patted Barry’s shoulder again.

Definitely a toucher, probably a hugger too. Barry didn’t mind. He’d fed last night; he was perfectly in control, and it was nice to be touched when he often went long stints without. 

Eddie got called the other direction, but before heading off, he motioned for Iris’s brother to come over. “Wally! Show Barry and Len down the food line, will you? And add this to the dessert table.” He passed off the pie.

Wally was a nice young man, easy-going and friendly, as was his father, Joe, where little Joey had gotten his name. Barry and Len were soon caught up in the din of it all, the bustle of meeting people, whose names and faces Barry would probably forget. A simple smile from him, however, seemed to go a long way toward banishing the suspicious and curious glances from neighbors and cops alike.

“Stupid question I should have asked before,” Len whispered as they went shuffling down the buffet line, “but you _can_ eat, right? You just don’t need to?”

“Yes. It tastes fine. I just don’t crave it and it isn’t sustaining.” Barry was taking small amounts to fill his plate since he’d only be picking at it for appearances.  

They meant to head inside for drinks, as Eddie had mentioned, but were dragged to a table by the husband of Eddie’s captain. Rob was an architect and very interested in Barry’s home and the renovations he’d done before moving in.

“I would have thought a pool would ruin that landscape,” he gushed, “but you did a wonderful job! I’d love to see what you did with the inside. I have been obsessed with that place for as long as it stood empty. If you’d agree to a dinner party one night, I know some amazing caterers who owe me a few favors.”

Barry would have thought everyone at this barbeque was an animated extrovert, but the captain himself, David Singh, seemed more reserved and maybe even a bit lovingly exasperated by how Rob was talking his ear off.

“Do I know you?” he asked of Len then, expression stiff and eyebrow raised.

“Can’t imagine from where.” Len extended a congenial hand. “Len Wynters, Barry’s personal assistant.”

It was only later, when they were headed into the house finally, that Len said, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the captain picked me up for shoplifting when I was a teenager. Shh.” He winked, and Barry had to chuckle. He wondered how different Len had looked as a teenager.

Len reached to take his hand, a mostly unconscious act, Barry thought, but the brush of his thumb along Barry’s wrist that had been sitting in the sun for too long made him hiss. Len frowned and tugged Barry more gently the rest of the way inside, stopping in the entryway to run the cooler backside of his hand along Barry’s reddened skin.

“Wait…” Barry whispered, pulling his arm away and holding it in the shadows. The redness visibly vanished after only a few seconds. “If anyone notices, I’ll just say: ‘It must have been the way the light hit me.’” He gave a wink of his own.

Sun exposure aside, Barry didn’t feel strange by being surrounded by so many people trying to get to know him, not with Len by his side. Normally, the smell of so many people in an enclosed area might get to him after a while, but there was food grilling, he’d fed just last night, and half the time, they were outdoors.

As long as he didn’t stay too much in the sun, everything would be fine.

 

XXXXX

 

Everything seemed to be going fine—until they met up with Iris in the kitchen and she introduced them to one of her coworkers.

“The mysterious Barry Allen in the big house down the street,” Linda said, a charming woman, but with a bit more of the investigative side to her reporter title shining in her eyes. “Iris talks about you all the time, but I feel like I know so little. Tell us about life before Central City. What brought you here?”

Len felt like an idiot for not preparing for those kinds of questions and thought for sure Barry would stutter his way into a hole.

But that’s when the smooth liar reappeared from _centuries_ of experience.

“I’ve lived abroad most my life,” Barry said with a small shrug. “I’m originally from National City, but I’ve been in Europe for the past several years. I missed the states and settled on Central mostly because of the house. I was a grand staircase away from choosing Gotham instead, but the house here had more of what I wanted.”

He _was_ good at this. It was just Len who tripped him up.

“And how did you two meet?” Linda asked.

“I work for Barry,” Len said. “I’m his assistant.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were a couple.”

“Oh, uhh…”

“Well…”

“I knew it!” Iris exclaimed, and then immediately reeled herself back in. “Sorry, I’m being a totally shameless busybody of a neighbor, but I just kept thinking there had to be something between you two!”

Even if they hadn’t confirmed it just then, Barry’s blush said plenty.

“Robbing the cradle a little, huh?” Linda nudged Barry playfully.

“Linda! They aren’t that far apart in age,” Iris said, rushing on to add, “not that it matters.”

“You must think me a terrible predator,” Barry said with a bashful glance to the side, which would have made Len laugh if he didn't know Barry was being genuine. “Seducing my employee.”

“Not at all!” the women practically spoke over each other.  

“And well they shouldn’t,” Len said. “The seducing part was all me. Mostly for a raise,” he added in a whisper.

Barry scoffed, but Len laughed, which prompted the ladies to join him.

“Relax,” Len assuaged Barry with a chaste kiss, “I wouldn’t tease if you weren’t such an easy mark.”

“Aw, you two are the cutest,” Iris said, sharing an adoring look with Linda. “Now I get why you were sequestering yourself in that house. You had a love story to play out. I’m just glad we finally got you into the sunshine, Barry. Only it doesn’t bother you too much, does it? You have some sensitivity?” She indicated the sunglasses he now had hooked in his shirt.

“I just need to balance my time indoors.”

“I don't think I caught what you do for work,” Linda returned to grilling him.

“I’m mostly a collector,” Barry once again didn’t even falter. “I’ve curator museums in the past and acquired items for other collectors. I thought I’d take a break though, inventory my own possessions, which Len has been helping with, and figure out what to do next.”

“Any hobbies?” Iris asked.

“He’s a pretty great photographer,” Len offered.  

“Really? We’re always looking for freelancers at Picture News.”

“Oh, I’m hardly a professional,” Barry argued.

“Looks professional enough to me,” Len said. “It could be a real… Spider-Man opportunity for you.”

Barry chuckled helplessly, cheeks going red again.

“That reminds me,” Iris said, “I need to give you back that comic. The kids really loved it.”

“Let them keep it,” Barry said with ease.

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist. I have another copy. They can have it.”

Len was honestly proud, not only because Barry was schmoozing the neighbors with such skill, but because it was honest. He wondered how seldom Barry allowed himself to get close to people, to know them and make friends. Almost never, he figured, because in Barry’s own words—it got harder to say goodbye, since as a vampire, he always had to move on when the people he met grew older and… died.

Like Len would someday, while Barry would never age.

The conversation got away from him, Len realized, lost in his thoughts and not too keen on dwelling on them. They were back to talking about Barry providing photos for Picture News.

“The least you can do is show me your work. Let me be the judge.”

“I don’t know if I’d want to see my name in print.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem if it’s for good reasons,” came a new voice, drawing their attention to the doorway. “And not bad ones,” finished the stranger with a wide smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes—blue and piercing.

He had short blond hair, and made a tall, striking figure. Eddie was with him, and their equally Aryan appearances made Len wonder if this was one of his relatives.

“Barry, Len, this is Detective Bender,” Eddie said—not a relative then, unless he was a distant cousin. “He’s a recent transfer, working with me on the um…murders.”

“Eddie!” Iris chided.

“But no shop talk at the barbeque!” he said loudly.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Linda grinned.

“Definitely no shop talk around the _second_ most aggressive reporter at Picture News.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, your wife and I are equal threats!”

“Didn’t you want to introduce Linda to Wally?” Eddie deflected to Iris, like he was used to navigating hungry reporters.

“Right!” Iris said with excitement. “You haven’t met my baby brother yet. We’ll be right back,” she said to Len and Barry before dragging Linda out of the kitchen.

Almost immediately, Eddie was called away again, the perils of being host, but that meant Len and Barry were suddenly alone with Detective Bender, who didn’t seem at all like he was going to scamper off and leave them be.  

“New in town as well, Detective?” Len tried desperately to read him.

But all he said was, “Call me Ken.”

His smile was dangerously calculating.

Like a cop with a lead.

If Barry noticed too, he didn’t let it show, which reminded Len again that he did know how to navigate these things. “We were just chatting with Captain Singh and his husband,” Barry said. “Rob was very interested in my renovations.”

“Next door.” Bender nodded. “And did you share with him who did all that work for you? Oh, wait. He was murdered.”

There came that gripping chill Len thought he had banished. He knew this had been going too smoothly.

“Not to worry,” Bender said with his false smile, “even if there was a conflict of interest with you and Detective West-Thawne being friendly, I’ve also looked over the case, and you have an alibi. Don’t you, Mr. Allen?” He stared evenly into Barry’s impressively neutral expression. “Mr. Wynters here vouches for you. I mean, it would be different if you two were sleeping together.”

Maybe they shouldn’t have been so cavalier about their relationship after all.

“Sorry, I had to detective my way through that one. But full disclosure? That’s not enough either. There isn’t evidence to put you at any of the murders, just suspicion and coincidence, and Eddie thinks very highly of both of you. As of now, you have nothing to worry about.”

He patted Barry’s shoulder like Eddie had earlier, but with an entirely different connotation, as if to say—he was not as easily swindled as the West-Thawnes.

“Enjoy the barbeque.”

 _Shit_. Just when Len had thought they had nothing to worry about.

 

XXXXX

 

“I really thought we had nothing to worry about,” Len said once they returned to Barry’s house. “We don’t. We know who the other detective is now. He has to act like that, because they don’t have any leads. He’s desperate, trying to get us to reveal something—”

“Len,” Barry stopped him, since Len had started a hurried pace across the foyer.

“Sorry.” He stopped short, one of the rare times he showed his age and inexperience compared to Barry. “I’m rambling.”

“You’re rambling,” Barry agreed with a smile. “It’s cute on you. But I really do think we’re okay. We’re doing everything we can. We’ve done everything right. Like you said, he’s desperate, trying to scare us.” Barry had to believe that until they had real reason to suspect otherwise. “Were you... headed home now?” It wasn’t late but pushing beyond dinner time with the sky beginning to darken.

Len calmed with a drop in his shoulders, finally releasing some of his tension as he walked up to Barry. “I know that detective spooked us—well, _me_ —but I had something else planned for tonight, if you’re up for it?”

Barry was always up for whatever Len wanted.

Until he grabbed his hand, collected the telescope from the living room, and dragged Barry up to the widow’s walk hatch. He almost dissented and said he’d had enough adrenaline for one day, thank you, but Len looked so eager as he gripped Barry’s hand a little tighter.

Barry left his sunglasses behind, but the stars weren’t quite twinkling yet when they made their way onto the roof. A pair of lawn chairs and one of Barry’s radios was waiting for them though.

“How…? _When_ …?” Barry stammered.

“I’m still a meddler in misdirection, if not a master of it. After spending all day with other people, I thought we deserved some alone time with one of my overdue promises.” Len carefully placed the telescope between the chairs and took out his cellphone to sync to the radio, one of the smaller ones that was gutted inside and installed with Bluetooth.

He took Barry’s hand again and led him to one of the chairs, chaise-like and easy to lie back in. Barry got comfortable, and Len mirrored him in the other chair before pressing play and filling the rooftop with a deep, resonant voice. 

_“A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep._

_“Welcome to Night Vale.”_

Eerie music picked up where the voice trailed off, and Barry turned to Len with an eager smile. The show—or _podcast_ —was quaint and silly and strange. It even had the announcer pining after a handsome new man in town. Barry hadn’t expected that or how much he enjoyed the first episode even listening to it high up on his roof.

By the time the episode ended, the stars were bright enough that Len pulled the telescope closer between them to peek through it.

“Well? Did you like it?” he asked as the outro music faded.

“Very _Twin Peaks_ ,” Barry said. “If you know it?”

“I know it.”

“Wonderfully weird.”

“My favorite kind.” Len watched Barry peek through the telescope too, then carefully pushed it out of the way to climb across the space between them and crowd onto Barry’s chair with him. They couldn’t easily fit, but with some shifting onto their sides, they made do.

There under the stars, Len kissed Barry sweetly, moving his tongue in a slow memorizing of the moment. Barry tried to memorize it too, to hang on for as long as he could. When Len’s hands drifted from Barry's face down his body, he realized how much he never wanted any of this to end.

But that made things difficult. It made Barry wonder about the ever-expanding and unknown future.

“T-tell me more," he pulled away before Len’s hand could stray beneath his beltline, "about Hades and Persephone.”

“What more is there?” Len chuckled.

“What happens after they decide to stay together?”

The weight of the question hung heavily between them suddenly, and Len pulled back to look Barry in the eyes. “I guess... I don’t know. It’s easier for them. They’re both gods. Immortal.”

“You think that makes it easier?”

“I don’t know…” Len said again.

Barry could map Len's face and memorize it like he had their kiss, and a hundred years from now, he’d be able to recall exactly how Len looked tonight. He wasn’t sure if that was enough, but the alternative…

Barry liked what he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have regrets.

“It doesn’t make everything easier,” he said.

Len’s hands returned to Barry’s face, their bodies close, scrunched in that lawn chair. He stroked his thumbs beneath Barry’s eyes as if to say—if they were yellow, fierce and glowing, he wouldn’t mind. He accepted all Barry was, but that was very different from giving up humanity.

“We don’t have to think about that right now,” Len said.

And Barry nodded. “Okay.”

He kissed Len before anything else could be said, because he wanted to enjoy what time he could steal before the days collected again and his hunger returned.

As their kissing grew more heated, Barry pushed for more first, pawing past Len’s clothes and rucking up his shirt to feel the contours of his stomach. Frantic, feverish in his want, Barry undid the clasp of Len's jeans, then his own, wanting to get his hands on them both again and feel that connection of skin.

Len panted against Barry’s cheek, breaking from the kiss to move his lips down Barry's neck, while rocking into his touch.

Barry hadn’t had harried, stolen moments like this in longer than he could remember. The desperation for it made him feel like he was as young as Len, truly that young. It almost quelled his bestial side completely, but still it stirred, making him want to drag his fangs along those scratches again.

He didn’t. He didn’t want to make the marks worse, but his eyes flickered and his fangs grew long, as he licked the marks instead. Len smelled wholly unique to him, and the desire to bite Len was always there, but focusing on the rut of their hips kept Barry centered on better things.

Len bared his neck completely without fear, and when they got close, breaths shortening and growing uneven, he rolled up to kiss Barry square on the mouth again, fangs and all.

“Want to rinse off together _now_?” he teased when it was over with a husk in his voice and a wicked grin.

Barry laughed. “That would be wonderful.”

 

XXXXX

 

Everything with Barry was wonderful, even the parts that shouldn’t be. Len didn’t even mind his regularly scheduled trips to see his blackmailers, the first of which included facing the Dillons after they finally discovered Bivolo’s body.

“I swear, Snart, if you know something,” Mardon snarled in his face, but that didn’t make Len afraid anymore either.

He knew Barry was watching.  

“I don’t,” Len swore.

“Maybe it was Midnight,” said Baez. Spooked was a strange look on her, usually so tough and unruffled.

“Then who the hell _is_ he?” Mardon barked, still holding Len by his collar.

“I don’t know,” Len said. “Allen doesn’t either. I swear! Not that he’s let on.”

“We need to get ahead of this,” Sam said, almost betraying that he was spooked too. “Extend an olive branch, let Midnight know we’ll give him a cut of our new deal if it’ll keep him off our backs. That must be what he’s after. No enemies where we can make friends, right, Snart?”

They weren’t exactly broken up about Bivolo’s loss, more just worried what it might mean for them. Sam and Rosa were the ones tied at the hip, and Len had often wondered if Mardon and Baez were sleeping together.

“Roy said he was followed last week,” Rosa said. “What if Midnight really did send a spy to watch us? Someone who could just be places, like Bivolo’s strip club or that dive bar Snart likes so much.”

Len refrained from saying he didn’t like Saints and Sinners so much as had to live there once.

“A bus boy or waitress.” Sam nodded. “Maybe. Anyone notice anyone new at your favorite haunts?”

The others shrugged.

“What about you, Snart, at that bar?”

They made this too easy. “Only Nora,” he said, “but she’s been dating my friend Ray. Sweet, normal girl. I can’t imagine—”

“Palmer?” Mardon pushed Len away from him with a snort. “Please. Anyone dating that nerd has to be a plant.”

“In that case,” Sam turned things back on Mardon, “if you think she’s tailing us, start tailing her. Everyone else be on alert. Just because we’re going to try making nice with Midnight doesn’t mean we have to be stupid.”

It was amazing how misinformation quickly made someone stupid anyway.

Mardon couldn’t quite make good on his order yet though, at least not ahead of Len, but checking in with Nora at Saints and Sinners went slightly less smoothly—since she and her boss already knew about Bivolo too.

“I hear the knife cuts were too clean and simple to be the original murderer,” she said, having dragged Len into the back again to slam him up against the wall like usual. “He died much too _quick_.”

“It wasn’t me,” Len said, taking her words for the threat they were. “And knife cuts aren’t Barry’s style.”

“Still could have been you, working alone.”

“You really think I could do something like that?”

The look she gave him said she didn’t.

Good.

“Not that we’re opposed to the Dillons biting it,” she eyed him warily, “but we don’t like you and Allen shaking things up without us knowing.”

“It wasn’t us. Barry told me we wouldn’t even have to bother. The Dillons have been fighting over the extra cash they think I’m bringing them. He figures they took out Bivolo to have more money between them. I thought it was _you_ who killed Bivolo but sounds like Barry’s right. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try reconnecting with your boss to get more out of the original money too.”

“Please, they wouldn’t dare.”

But right at that moment—Len couldn’t have planned it better himself—Nora’s phone buzzed, and after reluctantly letting Len go, the expression she gave the message was worthy of framing.

“Those idiots. They really are suicidal. The Dillons just messaged Midnight to meet.”

“Do you need me to tell you where they are?” Len asked.

“We know,” she sneered with a roll of her eyes. “But tell me, which of them could they stand to lose most?”

“Mardon,” Len said without falter, and the tides of their meeting changed for the better too.

Especially since Nora had been on her way out for another date with Ray but had to cancel now to address the new play in motion. With any luck, Mardon would be taken out next, and Barry could feed from one of the others come Friday.

That night, Len slept at the hotel, back at Barry's on Tuesday, which was mostly quiet, and ignored the ribbing from his friends, who mentioned his lacking presence at the hotel lately but said nothing about Bivolo's death. The less they knew, the better, and they understood that.

Eventually, Nora would just be a sad footnote for Ray.

By Wednesday, the late nights were starting to catch up to Len. It was easy to neglect the time when he was with Barry. So, he returned to the hotel early to catch up on sleep, beating Sara and Ray back from their day jobs.

He figured he'd make himself a drink, take a hot shower, and collapse into bed. He got five whole feet into his room too— _his_ , with his own door, separating him from the rest of the suite—before he noticed the body.

 _Baez’s_ body in the middle of his floor, with her eyes wide, blood everywhere from her many gruesome wounds, and a knife sticking out of her neck.

The one with Len’s fingerprints and blood on it.

 

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a touch shorter, but the rest should prove to be pretty lengthy and nonstop with cliffhangers. ^_^
> 
> Enjoy!

Len had seen several dead bodies now. He’d thought he could handle it after being okay with Barry killing Bivolo, but he was wrong.

It didn’t get easier when it was a surprise.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked for what must have been the dozenth time.

Len had called him as soon as he got his breathing and pulse under control. Barry arrived only minutes later, and while sitting on the bed with him was soothing, having Barry gently stroke up and down his spine, Len couldn’t stop staring at Baez’s body.

“No,” Len said. Not only was the sight of her nauseating, but the implications, the danger to them both—and to Sara and Ray—made it all so much worse.

He’d told Nora that she and Midnight should take out Mardon, but the opposite choice had been laid at his feet. He wasn’t stupid enough to think this wasn’t them, a message that they knew he was still working against them.

“Midnight has to be a vampire,” Len said, even though the body was covered in knife wounds.

“But the other night, whoever was watching you and noticed me in the alley—”

“Then that was Nora, but this… how else could someone get away with this without anyone seeing?”

Ceasing the strokes of his hand on Len’s back, Barry moved closer to wrap his arm around Len’s shoulders. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can be clever and resourceful. Just look at you.” He smiled.  

The laugh that left Len sounded pitiful. “I don’t feel like much of either of those things. I should have known they wouldn’t buy all that bullshit we’ve been feeding them.”

“It doesn’t matter. If Midnight wants to scare us, he can’t scare me. He’s the one who should be afraid. I’ll take care of this, Len. It’s going to be okay.”

“Sara and Ray will be back soon.”

“I’ll be done before then. Just sit. I’m going to steal supplies from housekeeping. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to get rid of a body from an unfortunate place.”

Len nodded, grateful but still numb and queasy about it all. He hardly noticed Barry leave and return, unsure of the time passing until Barry told him to look away.

He needed to cut up the body in order to dispose of it.

As soon as Len registered that sentence and what Barry was going to do, bile rose up in the back of his throat, and he raced for the bathroom to throw up.

Barry called to him to take his time, that he should stay out of the room until it was over. After emptying his stomach, Len gladly obeyed, staggering from the bathroom back into the main room to pour himself that drink he’d never gotten to so he could wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

He couldn’t have said if an hour passed or only minutes, but Barry announced he was done before there was any sign that Sara or Ray might be returning from their jobs.

“I need to finish this, but I will be back for you, and you can stay with me again tonight. Text your friends or leave a note. I’ll be back soon.”

Again, Len nodded, only glancing at Barry briefly, whose hands were bloody even though he’d managed not to get anything on his clothes.

Len knew he shouldn’t go back into the room, but he had to, he had to see if it was all really gone. Remarkably, it was—every stain, every shred of evidence, the knife. If Len didn’t know exactly where Baez’s body had been strewn across his floor, he could have believed it never happened.

“Len,” Barry’s voice was suddenly at his ear, Barry’s hand, cold as always and clean now of any blood, wrapping around Len’s and taking the empty glass from his grasp. Len hadn’t realized he’d finished it. “Did you message your friends?”

“No… I…”

“I’ll do it.” Barry took the cell phone from Len’s pocket and rapidly fired off a few texts. “It’s going to be okay. I promised you and that promise remains. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But Sara and Ray,” Len said. “Aren’t they in danger? Maybe I shouldn’t leave them tonight.”

“If Midnight had wanted to send that message, it would have been one of their bodies instead.”

Len shuddered at the thought, because he knew that was true.

“They’ll be all right.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right."

“Len,” Barry said more urgently, and he realized he’d still been staring at the spot where Baez’s body had been.

He turned toward Barry, really looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived. He was pristine, just like the room. He’d cleaned up, kept himself from getting too dirty to begin with, and had protected Len just like he promised.

And he looked so scared for him, so genuinely worried and sorrowful.

The crease in Barry’s brow and sympathy in his eyes almost made the bile surge up in Len’s throat again, but instead, he fell forward into Barry’s arms and let him hold him.

“I promise, when we discover who Midnight is, I will tear him and Nora apart. I will kill all of them for you, anyone who ever threatens you until no one would ever dare again.”

It was a dark promise, but it comforted Len, and he nodded against Barry’s shoulder, seeing his shirt left with stains after all, just from tears.  

“Hang onto me,” Barry said softly, wrapping his arms more firmly around Len. “I’ll bring you home.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry didn’t want to keep Len like a pet or a prisoner, but part of him never wanted to let Len leave his home again, where he could always be sure he was safe.

He’d buried Baez and all the evidence deep in the woods where no one would find her. Now, to be safe, he’d incinerate his and Len’s clothes to be absolutely sure there was nothing left, since this death had not been part of their plan.

Not so soon, without any of the blood going to better use.

It all unfolded so similarly to Bivolo, the two of them in the basement, quietly undressing. But that night last week, Len had turned it all around and shown that he was okay, that he could handle this and what Barry was. Baez’s death had clearly hit him harder, reminding him like the first night he saw Barry’s true face of his own mortality.

They might have been safe enough to simply wash their clothes, but when Barry piled it all into the incinerator, he saw a sigh of relief from Len, who clearly wanted it all gone. Barry was soon ready to lead Len back upstairs, put him to bed, and attend to any request he might have, when he noticed Len’s gaze drifting to that same sketch of the lovely fair woman.

“What if it’s personal?” Len said.

“Huh?”

“All this.” Len stared at the picture like he’d stared at Baez’s body. “What if it’s someone who knows you? Another vampire, maybe even the one who made you.” He whirled to face Barry with a wild expression in his eyes. “What if it’s her?”

Barry laughed. He didn’t mean to, a terribly insensitive thing to do when Len was so distraught, but the idea was so much more absurd than he realized. “Len, she can’t be Midnight.”

“Just because they’ve been saying ‘he’ doesn't mean it isn't misdirection—”

“It can’t be her because she’s not the one who made me.”

“She isn't?” Len said, looking back at the picture like he'd been so sure he'd figured it all out.

“She died, human, a long time ago. That’s Hypatia. My wife.”

Len whirled around even faster this time, and Barry couldn’t blame him, since he hadn’t told him any of that yet.

A few charged moments passed, before Len finally said, “But you’re gay.”

Barry laughed again, offering a small, somber smile that didn’t quite carry as much of the sadness as it once would have. “So was she.” He moved past Len to stand in front of the picture he'd drawn so long ago. “She was my best friend. Times were different then, so marrying kept us safer.”

“Then?” Len pressed with a tentative edge.

“Mid-11th century,” Barry admitted, even though this was hardly a date, but he knew it was silly to wait any longer. “Last March, I celebrated my nine hundred and ninety-eighth birthday.”

He let that sink in before glancing back at Len to take in his reaction. If Barry was being honest, Len looked relieved to finally know the last of what had remained unsaid.

“We never consummated the relationship,” Barry continued. “Everyone assumed she was barren and felt pity for us, which made it easier for them to leave us alone. We both had lovers over the years and kept each other safe.”

“Lovers?”

“Not _a_ love but partners. Pati was my love, just platonically. She did eventually find a lasting love herself, but I never did. When she died, I wasn't as careful about hiding what I was. Luckily or unluckily for me, my last lover as a human ended up being the vampire who turned me.”

“Who was he?”

“Not someone to love or that good of a partner,” Barry said, “but we speak from time to time. He would have no reason to wish me ill like this. We had our time together. We’ve had our time apart. It’s amicable. I’ve said before that I have my regrets, but I was always grateful for what he made of me, and he knows that.

“I didn’t have to be afraid anymore of someone discovering what I was. If they did, I was something else too, something much more dangerous than what anyone might accuse me of.”

“I don’t know why I thought it would have been easier back then.” A smile tugged at Len’s lips.

“It could be in some places, but that was also when there was a push to make it considered unnatural and have the laws of the land uphold that. Vampires never really cared though. After I became one, I…experimented with women of my kind, but I maintain my preferences.”

Len laughed lightly, glancing aside, but eventually, he frowned again. “Are you sure the vampire who turned you doesn’t feel differently?”

“I am, but I can contact him if you’d like.”

“Maybe. I just can’t imagine anyone having you and not going crazy once they had to go on without you.”

Now, Barry glanced aside. A thousand years and too many of those years spent alone, but of all the men he’d been with when he was human, all the vampires he’d been with since, all the people he’d met over his lifetime, no one had ever affected him like Len did.

“W-well,” Barry tried miserably to keep from stuttering, looking up to meet Len’s adoring gaze that sometimes he doubted he deserved, “he was never like you.”

Len was still the one who’d been wronged and threatened tonight, whose expression held an edge of sorrow like he was close to breaking, so of course, stuttering fool or not, Barry crossed to him when there was nothing left to be said. He remembered how scantily clad they both were as he gathered Len against him but ignored the way it made his skin flush to feel Len down the length of his body and kissed him soundly.

It wasn’t only touch but the emotion behind it, the clamoring desire to keep it, to never ever lose it now that he’d found it, that sometimes made it difficult for Barry to speak or stay his trembles. Killing, lying, surviving—that was all easy compared to finally finding _this_ and being so terrified it might be taken away.

Barry pushed the kiss deeper, holding Len too tightly, as a rush of possessiveness overcame him.

“I-I get it!” Len gasped for breath amidst Barry’s hold. “You can’t imagine life without me either.”

Barry really couldn’t.

He kissed Len once more, softly. “Come. I’ll make you some tea and put you to bed.”

 

XXXXX

 

It amazed Len that tea and being tucked into Barry’s bed was all it took to put him right to sleep.

He’d already been so exhausted, but he’d feared Baez’s lifeless eyes and bloody wounds would haunt him into his dreams, along with the looming unknown shadow of Midnight. Len didn’t dream though, maybe because Barry laid down beside him and stayed there until he fell asleep.

The messages waiting on Len’s phone in the morning were just Sara and Ray teasing him about spending so much time with ‘Mr. Allen’. There was nothing from the Dillons. They likely didn’t know about Baez yet.

Part of Len wanted to stay with Barry, to hide with him and just wait for it all to blow over, but he still worried about Sara and Ray and asked for the day off to see if Midnight’s message would be followed by any obvious demands. He’d expected a text or call from Nora, but so far there had been nothing. They were letting him sweat, and if that was the case, then he’d rather do that where he could keep an eye on his friends.

“I’ll come with you—”

“No, it’s fine. You’d have to stay in hiding all day. Or meet my friends. Both of which sound like torture for you right now.”

Barry laughed but clearly didn’t want to let Len out of his sight.

“I’ll be fine,” Len assured him. “They wanted to scare me. They probably expected I’d stay with you last night. But eventually, Nora or Midnight will have to contact me. I’ll let you know as soon as they do.”

Len’s bike was still back at the hotel, so he called a Lyft, sticking to the blind spots of the cameras once he was headed inside in case it ever came up as odd that he was coming back when he’d never left.

It was still early when he entered the suite.

“Lover boy returns,” Sara called from her usual perch on the sofa, dressed but not looking in any hurry to do anything other than dawdle on her phone.

Ray was at the desk on his computer. Neither seemed like they knew the place had been a murder scene last night. “Hey Len! I feel like we’ve barely seen you for weeks.”

“Does this mean you’re skipping ‘work’ today?” Sara tipped her feet back to the floor. “Coz neither of us have any hours either.”

“Not until I see Nora,” Ray said.

That brought on a fresh gurgle of bile in Len’s stomach, but he did his best to not let it show on his face. “You consider that a job too?”

Sara laughed.

“No.” Ray scowled. “But the benefits are way better than a paycheck.”

 _Urg_. “Ray, listen…” Len trailed off before he could think of what to say.

He couldn’t tell them what was going on. If Ray broke things off with Nora, Midnight would know Ray and Sara were in on this, and then they’d for sure be in danger.

More than they already were.

“Do you even know her last name?” Len asked instead, since he was pretty sure he’d never heard it.

“Uhh…well…”

“Seriously?” Sara spun toward Ray with another laugh.

“It hasn’t been important!”

“ _Wow_.”

“What do you like about her anyway?” Len pressed, continuing into the room to drop down on the sofa beside Sara.

“We have a lot of the same interests.”

 _Lies_.

“She loves listening to my ideas and rants. Even about tech stuff.”

 _Pandering_.

“And she’s uhh…not too bad in other ways either.”

That…was probably true, but considering how seldom Ray got any, maybe she was only mediocre.

Regardless, Len didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about any of this. He’d asked for a day off and that’s what he wanted. “Do you guys want to get out of here? Get some breakfast? Something _good_ for once.”

“Hell yeah,” Sara agreed only too easily.

“But I was going to work on that firewall again,” Ray said, gesturing at his laptop. “I am _this_ close.” He held his thumb and index finger a millimeter apart.

They needed that account, maybe now more than ever since Midnight obviously knew everything about Len, but Len couldn’t face the threats against them if he wasn’t calm and centered. He needed a break—and coffee. “You can do that later. Come on.”

They were at the Hilton, so finding a nice place to get quality breakfast wasn’t hard within walking distance. All their years together scamming people, stealing food when needed, meant they weren’t the frivolous types. When they ate or bought anything with real hard-earned money, they made sure it was worthwhile.

Today though, Len didn’t care, even if the inevitable check they had coming would have normally made him turn up his nose. He was pretty sure Ray’s fruit parfait alone was twenty bucks, and that was just for starters. All Len really wanted was coffee, but he upped it to a latte and ordered an omelet too.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence for once?” Sara asked once the food had been served and they were digging in with gusto.

“Like you said, I’ve been working nonstop. I missed you assholes.”

She snorted. “You gonna give us a timetable then?”

“A few weeks yet, but if Ray can narrow down that last account, get something useful out of it like a name, maybe sooner.”

“And then we’ll hit the road like we planned?”

Len froze with his fork dug into a bite of omelet. He’d been trying not to think about that either.

“You want to stay, don't you?” Sara said like she’d already suspected as much. “With him.”

Ray paused in his eating too, the whole table going suddenly still.

“I get it,” Ray said, never one to enjoy a comfortable silence, let alone a tense one. “I don’t want to leave either with Nora here.”

Maybe Len didn’t have much of an appetite after all. He set down his fork and stared at his half full latte.

“Len,” Sara said more hushed across the table, “I obviously don’t want to know anything about how that creep Bivolo ended up dead, or however the rest of them are going to be following, but I don’t trust Allen either. You’re wrapped up in some much heavier shit than we ever planned on.”

“I trust him,” Len said, having expected this conversation eventually, just not at breakfast. “Even if you don’t, I do. With my life.” He looked up unwaveringly to meet Sara’s stare. “I want this over with and all our threats gone, but Barry isn’t one of them.”

“So, it’s all about him now?”

“If you still want to go to Coast City, I won’t let that mean things are over between us. You're my best friends. And if you chose to stay in Central, I'd still want to do everything we planned for Coast City, just here. With Barry part of the equation too.”

Sara didn't look convinced. Honestly, Len didn’t know how it would work either, but he knew he couldn't just leave.

“You love him, huh?” Ray said with a soft smile.

“I didn’t say—”

“ _Lenny_.” Sara stared him down harder.

Len sighed. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Urg,” Sara groaned loudly, diving back into her pancakes. “So much for a final haul from the mall. Maybe I’ll keep the job even after we’re rolling in more dough. It’s kinda fun kicking brats out for loitering. And letting a few get away with shoplifting if they do it with enough style.” She grinned as she took a large bite.

Len grinned back at her, because she knew that love wasn’t something any of them admitted to easily. They’d spent too much of their lives with a very limited amount.

“Then we’re staying?” Ray bounced in his seat like a puppy.

“Yeah, Ray, we’re staying,” she droned.

“Yes! I can’t wait to tell Nora!”

Len’s stomach dropped again. “Ray…”

“I want you guys to spend more time with her. And same with Barry! We have to meet him finally.”

There was an idea—Len, his friends, Barry, and one of their blackmailers, all enjoying a friendly chat.

“You’ll meet him, I promise,” Len said.

 _Eventually_. After all, Barry was charming with the West-Thawnes; he could be charming with Sara and Ray, and they never needed to find out what he was.

“So, loiterers and grooming the next generation of shoplifters.” Len finally dug back into his breakfast. “What about you, Ray? How's the Nerd Herd?”

It was good to catch up. Great. Sara and Ray might still be wary of Barry, but even before meeting him, they accepted him and Len's feelings.

Len loved Barry. He was in love with him.

Now he just needed to tell Barry that.

They took their time getting back to the hotel. If they were going to stay in Central City, they’d need to find someplace more long-term, though Len wondered how much time he'd even spend there once they did, more likely to just stay with Barry—if he was allowed.

“Start working on that account, Ray. I’m going to take a shower. Whether you make headway or not, how about we catch a movie later?”

“I'm game,” Ray said.

“And while Ray does the heavy lifting,” Sara dropped back onto the sofa with her phone, “I'll check showtimes.”

Len smiled, feeling relaxed and confident again despite the dread that accompanied going into his room for the first time since last night. There was hope and promise and acceptance on the horizon. He could do this, he could, and it started with going into that room for a fresh set of clothes.

The carpet was still clean when he entered with no sign of anything amiss.

Which was why he jumped so high when a voice spoke from behind him.

“Mr. Wynters.”

Len spun on his heels so fast, he nearly tripped. He could scream, his door was still open, but then he realized who it was, hidden back by the closet in his room’s armchair.

“Detective Bender?”

Blond hair. Blue eyes. Definitely him.

“Actually, it's Darhk. Damien Darhk.” He grinned. “You understand now why Midnight works so well.”

 

XXXXX

 

Blond hair. Blue eyes. Just like Hypatia.

But this was Barry's sire—Eobard.

There was no way he could be Midnight.

Still, as Barry had promised, he looked up Eobard’s most recent contact information and attempted to call him.

“Hello?” a stranger answered.

“Uhh…yes, I was looking for…” Vampires didn’t often use their true names, and Barry wasn’t sure what Eobard was going by these days.

“Mr. Bard? Are you a friend of Edward Bard?”

“Yes, exactly.” Not very creative, but then, Barry hadn’t been either, coming from Ptolemy. “This is Barry Allen, an old friend. This was my most recent number for...Edward. Is he available or is this no longer correct?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Allen. I’ve been hoping for your call,” the man on the other end said with a genuine drop in his tone. “All of the information for Mr. Bard’s contacts and associates was either taken or destroyed. I wasn’t sure if I’d get any calls on this phone, but I was hoping to hear from you.”

“Forgive me, I’m not sure I’m following. What’s going on? Who are you to him?”

“I’m Mr. Bard’s lawyer. And the executor of his will.”

Barry felt the blood drain from his face. “His what?”

 

XXXXX

 

_What?_

Bender was Midnight? Bender was…

Darhk?

“I’m sure dear Raymond out there will get everything he needs about my account soon enough, but in case you’re antsy, now you know my real name without any extra fuss.”

Bender— _Darhk_ —smiled coldly, even more unnervingly than he had at the barbecue.

Len stood frozen in the middle of his room, unsure what to do.

“Best close that and give us some privacy, don’t you think?” Darhk gestured at the door.

Remembering Baez and all the other mutilated victims of this monster, Len hurriedly swung his door shut. Darhk couldn’t be a vampire, Barry would have sensed it at the barbecue, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. He’d managed all of this because he was a cop.

Slowly, Darhk stood and approached Len with that unsettling smile. He wore a neat suit today with a long trench coat, very fitting of a detective, especially a partner of Eddie’s, since Eddie dressed similarly, but Len doubted Eddie had any idea who this man really was.

“Someone’s going to kill you eventually, Mr. Wynters,” Darhk said plainly. “Or _Snart_ , I should say. But now I know for sure, it won’t be Allen. He likes you. I think he’d do anything for you. A smart man, even a vampire,” he said with a pointed widening of his eyes, “who didn’t care beyond that pretty face of yours would have let you take the fall for Baez, framed you for all of it and saved himself. Instead, he saved you.”

Whoever Darhk was, Len felt the same chilling sense of dread around him as he did around Nora. “Tell me what you want.”

“Leverage. That’s all I've ever wanted. Now, I have it.”

“For what?”

His smile widened. “Keep picking your way through the Dillons. I’m patient. You’re making my job easier. Go ahead and tell Allen who I am too. I know you’ve told him everything else. Make sure he understands that it won’t be easy to take out the detective working a case that mostly points at him. Especially since there are so many ways this could all _really_ point at him—or you—if I’m not feeling generous.

“And if he thinks he can go after Nora, assure him that _you_ will be a lot less recognizable than Miss Baez if it comes to that. Or I could start with Eddie. Or his wife. Or—”

“I get it.” Len knew what Darhk was implying and just how little he cared about collateral damage. “I’ll tell Barry whatever you want.”

“Good. It’s very simple: do as I say, and I swear, once the Dillons are dead, what I want from you and _Barry_ …you can both survive.”

“Are you picking out matching accessories in there?” Sara called from the living room. “Get in the shower already! The best movie times are in less than an hour!”

“I’ll be right out!” Len yelled back through the door. “I got a call!”

“From lover boy again? Tell him you’re ours today!”

Len grimaced, especially since Darhk looked so smug. “You’re not a vampire, so what are you? Some sort of hunter?”

Darhk gave a quiet chuckle. “This isn’t cable TV, kid. I won’t be leaping from the window. I’m just a normal human like you. Which means I’ll be making myself comfortable and leave after you and your friends head off to that movie. Best behave and go enjoy your shower. And don’t do anything stupid.”

He turned and sat right back down in the armchair.

Len gathered his clothes, made sure he had his phone, and hurried across the suite to the bathroom, mostly ignoring Sara and Ray, who teased him to hurry up.

He immediately slumped onto the edge of the tub and called Barry.

“Len? I was about to call _you_. I have concerning news.”

“You too?”

“What do you mean? Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sort of. I don’t know.” Len clenched his eyes shut and took a steadying breath. “You go first.”

“I think Midnight killed my sire.”

“What?” Len’s eyes snapped open again. “He’s dead?”

“I contacted him, but his lawyer answered. I’d informed Eobard, my maker, that I was moving to Central City. He knew, one of the only people who did. But he was found dead a month ago with all of my information gone, other than my name and what was in his will.”

Len felt that same nausea from last night, because Darhk was still here, with Ray and Sara the only thing between them, and he’d killed a vampire. “That’s how he knew about you.”

“Yes. I’ve been trying to contact others,” Barry continued. “A few are fine, but several aren’t answering. I can’t be sure, but I think Midnight has been picking through every one of us he can find.”

“Why?” Len tried to understand what could possibly be gained from this. “What does he want? Nora said it wasn’t only about money, and he said he isn’t a hunter.”

“I don’t know, but… wait, _he_ said? Len?” Barry’s voice took on a note of alarm.

“I know who Midnight is,” Len admitted shakily. “He’s here.”

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, NOT Eobard. Bender is one of the aliases Darhk used in CW verse. ONE person guessed Midnight might be Darhk, but it was fun trying to throw you guys off. 
> 
> More soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot, just in time for a little mini vacation. 
> 
> You guys are the best! Enjoy!

Len told Barry not to rush over to the Hilton, not with Sara and Ray there and so many unknowns concerning Bender—Midnight.

Darhk.

If he’d managed to kill so many vampires, including Barry’s creator, then it was too dangerous to underestimate him. They needed to find out everything they could, even if Darhk seemed prepared for that too.

So, Len went to the movies with his friends and tried to forget how fucked it all was.

He tried to relax, to have fun, but he was even more terrified of that room than before when he walked back into it after they returned home. Darhk was gone, but that didn’t make Len feel any better.

The rest of the evening, Ray finished hacking into Darhk’s account and came up with everything Len had hoped to discover—even Darhk’s name—but all of it seemed moot now. Len pretended it was great news, thanked Ray and said he’d tell Barry right away, but inside, he felt trapped and unsure about what they could do without making everything worse.

They couldn’t kill a cop, and if they tried, Darhk was sure to have contingency plans.

When Len was finally ready to turn in for the night, he called Barry again.

“Would you like me to come get you?”

“No. Come—yes, please. I want you here. But I can’t leave Sara and Ray again. Will you just be here and stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

 

XXXXX

 

Of course, Barry could be there for Len, easy enough to traverse into the city now that the sun was set, and he had many ways of sneaking into the hotel without anyone noticing. He wondered how Darhk had managed the same but figured a police detective didn’t need to use subterfuge.

Once Barry was in the room, Len sank gratefully into his arms.

Barry told him to sleep, to not worry about anything tonight. They could discuss it all in the morning. Len agreed and snuggled into his arms like he had the night before.

While Barry didn’t sleep, he didn’t mind dozing, lying there with the warmth of Len against him. He got up from time to time to stretch, and at one point discovered the book he’d given to Len, the one on myths, and brought it back to bed to read while Len burrowed unconsciously into his chest.

The sun was starting to peek through the curtains when Len groggily asked him, “Which one are you on?”

“Psyche and Eros.” Barry peered down with a warm smile.

“Another favorite,” Len said, smiling in return. “They get their happy ending too. After Psyche joins Eros as a god.”

“Len…” That made Barry set the book aside, but he wrapped Len up in his arms even more tightly.

“I know you’re not a god. Darhk still managed to kill someone like you.”

“Maybe more than one.”

“I’m sorry about your sire.”

“Thank you,” Barry said quietly.

It was the first time he’d mourned someone in ages. He’d lost other vampire friends over the years, but all because they’d chosen to stop living. This was different. This was having someone taken from him that he hadn’t been prepared to lose.

He hadn’t seen Eobard in decades, but as his maker, he’d been such a constant, the beginning of Barry’s life like this, and now he was simply gone.

Honestly, Barry wouldn’t miss him, but it still pained him to know he could never see him again.

“He left everything to me, but most of his assets were stolen the night he was murdered. There’s insurance, but I don’t care about the money. We weren’t close, not anymore, but he was still like family. I never would have thought that the last time I saw him… would be the _last time_.”

Len squeezed him tighter too.

“His lawyer needs me to go to him,” Barry continued, “meet in person to sign off on everything and get what Eobard left me, but I told him that now isn’t exactly a good time. We’ll finish this first, bring Darhk to justice, whatever his motives and end goal might be. But I still want to know why he’s doing this.”

“I don’t care why,” Len said with a fierceness alighting in his eyes that Barry had never seen there before. “I’m so sick of being scared. Of him. The Dillons. Losing my freedom. He and Nora are the ones who should be scared, and we’re going to make them feel that way.” He looked up, his expression softening as he took in Barry’s face. “It’s Friday again. You need to feed, and it has to be Mardon.”

“Are you thinking we should frame Darhk like he tried to frame me?”

“That’ll be tough until we have more intel on him, but I have some ideas. Most of it can’t go down until tonight.”

“What shall we do in the meantime?” Barry said, turning his head to kiss Len’s palm. They couldn’t do more than frantic pawing at each other or fervent swipes of their tongues, at least not until after Barry fed, but that was plenty to assuage him.

He shifted closer, legs tangling with Len’s and hands grasping for an anchor so he could kiss Len more sweetly on the mouth.  

“Rise and shine, Lenny!”

 

XXXXX

 

“Rise and shine, Lenny!” Sara called—seconds before opening Len’s door and walking right in!

Len bolted upright. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know Barry existed, but finding them in bed together was very different. He fumbled to think of an explanation, while simultaneously realizing that he could no longer feel Barry at his side.

Because Barry wasn’t there.

That vampire speed was a godsend.

“Hey, lazy ass,” Sara said, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. She was dressed in her security uniform, which shouldn’t be flattering on anyone, but she was an exception. “We’re heading into work. You gonna be a lump all day or go play house with Allen again?”

“I’m up,” Len droned. Thankfully, the shock of panic he’d felt meant he wasn’t as ‘up’ as he’d been a moment ago with Barry angling for a kiss. “I’m getting up right now. And yes, I’ll be with Barry most of the day, but… how about you guys meet me for dinner at Saints and Sinners after your shifts?”

“Really?” Ray peeked his head in too.

“Yes, Ray, really.” Len chuckled. “We need to make more of an effort with Nora, right?” Much as it nauseated him thinking of the eventual heartache he was setting his friend up for.

“But she works all night.” Ray pouted.  

Len knew that—Ray never shut up about her schedule—but that was the point. “Why do you think we’re going to her? Now, will you two get the hell out of here and go be useful to society?”

Ray looked gleefully appeased, while Sara snorted.

“Don’t work too hard, lover boy,” she said and blew Len a kiss.

As soon as they were gone, thankfully shutting the door behind them, Barry reappeared as if materializing out of the wall.

“You _want_ to see Nora?” he asked, crawling up from the foot of the bed.

“I never want to see her. I have to. We have a long day ahead of us.” He opened his arms, letting Barry nuzzle back in against his chest. It was like lying on the cold side of the pillow; Len was cozy warm beneath the covers, but the chill of Barry was bracing. “Morning can be for planning, but I need food first. Did you bring your sunglasses?”

“Yes.” Barry frowned. “But I was hoping we wouldn’t get out of bed just yet. Besides, I don’t have a spare set of clothes.”

Len pushed the covers aside to get Barry back under them with him, wrapping him up close to make it clear that he was perfectly fine with stealing a few more quiet moments together. He kissed Barry, grinding his hips against him to feel that morning hunger rise.

The hunger was realer for Barry after a full week, and his eyes flashed yellow.

Len kissed him anyway, full on the lips, but slowed the writhing of their bodies until Barry’s growls became a rumbling purr.

“The clothes I borrowed from you are still dirty, so I guess you’ll have to borrow mine for once.” Len liked the idea of Barry in one of his Henley’s. “Maybe we can finally get some shopping in today. Breakfast for me, hit a few stores for you, then home before lunch? Minimal time in the sun, I promise.”

“What are we going to do once we’re home?” Barry asked.

They’d both started calling Barry’s place home, and Len was in no mind to correct that.

He wished his plans for the day involved pinning Barry to the nearest hard surface, the mattress beneath them would be adequate enough, but that would have to wait until after Mardon was dead.

“We’re going to invite the West-Thawnes over for a swim.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry did not invite people over—ever—least of all to swim in his pool. But he’d promised those children, and Len had several ingenious ideas brewing for how to turn things to their favor.

First, Len ate. With Barry’s sunglasses firmly in place, they found a back corner of a coffee shop, and Barry got a simple black coffee for appearances. The shopping afterward was surprisingly pleasant. Barry usually avoided it, kept his clothes in good shape to hang onto them well after their normal wear, or shopped online, but with Len, it was…fun.

Len chose things for him, gave critiques and hums of approval. Barry found himself enjoying dressing for someone other than himself, catering to Len’s opinions, which he had to admit were flattering. Barry liked everything they purchased, even if he wouldn’t have thought it try some of it on if he’d been alone.

Like a red and navy canvas jacket. Very chic.

They used Len’s bike to get around, and to eventually head back to the house. Even with the sun glaring and hot, Barry didn’t mind the drive, closing his eyes beneath his shades and clinging to Len’s waist. The smell of him so close still roused the part of Barry that was growing hungry with the closing of the week, but the more time he and Len spent together, the more certain he was that he could control himself even at the worst of times.

“Why are we pretending we’re having a garage sale?” he asked later, aiding Len in carrying boxes down into the living room.

“We’re not pretending. These are things I didn’t originally think I could get away with stealing, but that you either don’t need or don’t even seem to care you have.”

“I…” Barry was poised to protest, but then took notice of what was in the boxes and couldn’t disagree. “So, we’re going to sell all of it?”

“We’re going to sort it and decide what might sell, what could be donated or given away, and what I can slip to the Dillons to keep them happy. And getting ready for a pseudo garage sale is the perfect excuse for why Iris and the kids can come over. It’s tedious work we won’t mind them interrupting.”

Not that Iris needed extra convincing to accept the invite. She showed up not much later in a swimsuit, cover up, and hat that Barry wasn’t sure would fit through his door, with the twins in tow and a couple bags filled with snacks and pool toys.

“I promise we’ll clean up whatever mess we make,” she said, already out of a breath, likely just from packing up the kids for the short drive there.

“Nonsense. That’s what I pay Len for,” Barry said.

Len shot him a dirty look, and Barry chuckled, which made Iris chuckle too.

“Anything I can do to help?” she said as she ushered the kids inside, who had floaties on their arms as if ready to dive right in—which considering how they bee-lined past Barry and Len for the patio doors was probably what they planned to do. “No running!” Iris called after them but didn’t bother giving chase. “And say thank you!”

“Thank you, Mr. Barry!” the twins parroted without turning or slowing their momentum.

“We invited you here to relax,” Len said, taking the bag of snacks from her, “not to get roped into our manual labor.”

“Besides,” Barry put in, “it’ll just be us scrutinizing my possessions, trusting in Len’s keen eye for what might sell. By all means though, if you see anything that catches your eye, don’t hesitate to ask about it. If I’m going to get rid of it anyway, I’d rather it go to a good home.”

Iris cast an interested gaze over the boxes in the living room. The kids had successfully hefted the door open, darted outside, tossed their towels onto chairs, and were already in the water. “I might do a little window shopping, but I actually have a lot of work to do. There is something amazing about being able to write an article while basking in the sunshine though.” She indicated the laptop tucked into the tote with pool toys. “Seriously, let me know of any way I can repay you for letting us come over.”

“This is our repayment for the barbecue,” Barry insisted, “and just to be good neighbors. Finally meeting more people from the area was a delight, like your work friend, Linda, and Eddie’s partner, Mr....umm …oh, I’m terrible with names. Did he say Ken?”

“Bender.” Iris nodded with a scrunch to her nose. “Kenneth Bender. He’s uhh…hard to read, isn’t he?”

“You think so?” Len played into her obvious dislike. “Seemed friendly to me.”

“That’s what Eddie says, but he sort of rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know. Eddie says it’s my reporter instinct, that I distrust everyone, but I think I have a right to worry about the man who's watching my husband’s back day in and day out.

“He’s fine, I guess. Real sweet with the kids. Has his own, I think, but I never heard of a wife.”

“Bender has children?” Barry asked.

“I don’t know for sure, I just got that impression. I suppose if he’s nice to those little rascals,” she smiled out the open doorway, “he can’t be all bad. I really wish they’d get some leads on those murders though…” She snapped her attention back to them after letting that slip. “Not that you heard anything from me, but since you got all wrapped up in it, it only seems fair.

“The whole thing sort of stalled,” she said more hushed. “There was another murder earlier this week, but not as brutal, so they can’t say if it was the same killer. Honestly, I’d be glad if it all just blows over, maybe gang related, and it really was all coincidence that, well…”

“That I knew everyone who was killed,” Barry said with a wry smile. “Aside from this week. I hadn’t heard about someone knew,” he lied.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d know him, more just a thug. Maybe he was one of the ones doing the killing and they’re cleaning house. Eddie swears he’s never noticed any weird behavior around the neighborhood, but I was really worried about you for a while there.

“That you were being targeted!” she rushed on quickly. “Never that you were involved. Certainly not after meeting you.” She passed her gaze from Barry to Len with an equally warm smile. “If you’re sure you don’t need any help in here, I better get to work. Thank you both so much again. And feel free to yell at those two if they get too rowdy.”

Barry and Len both laughed as Iris took the bag of snacks back from Len and went outside to claim a patio chair.

“What do you think?” Barry asked quietly. “Will Darhk up the death toll now that we took care of Baez?”

“I don’t think so,” Len said. “He’s biding his time. He wants us to take out the Dillons because then he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need any more murders to frame you, because he knows we’ll be committing plenty of our own.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t go after Mardon.”

“We’re still taking out Mardon. We need the case to stay hot.”

“But we’re not going to frame Darhk?”

“Too risky now that we know he’s a cop, but we can do better.” Len grinned. “We’ll go over things when there are less ears around. Now, come on. We actually need to go through this stuff.”

Most of the items had already been catalogued by Len in previous weeks and simply needed to be put in a keep, sell, or donate pile. During a break from writing, Iris claimed a Tiffany lamp that she said reminded her of one her grandmother used to have, and Barry gladly let her have it, but she wouldn’t accept anything else since he refused payment.

She reapplied sunscreen, made the kids do the same, and let them head back into the pool.

As it was nearing dinner time, another knock at the door turned out to be Eddie. Having yet another person in his home usually would have made Barry edgy, especially so close to his usual feeding time, but this family had won him over as easily as they had Len and seeing Eddie at the door made him smile.

Until Eddie entered to reveal _Bender_ behind him.

“I hope this is a friendly call?” Len said, managing much better than Barry was at maintaining a cordial expression.

“Sorry,” Eddie said right away, “I didn’t mean for the both of us showing up to make you sweat. Ken’s just coming over for dinner tonight, and I figured I’d help Iris wrangle the kids. Telling them pool time is over can be a challenge. You two wouldn’t want to join us, would you?”

“Sorry, Eddie, I promised my friends I’d meet them later,” Len jumped right in, which was just as well, since Barry blanked on an initial response, “and Barry already turned down my offer to tag along.”

“Right! I... have too much on my mind to leave the house tonight,” Barry fumbled to add, “but raincheck for sure.”

A chorus of complaints rose up from the patio.

“It begins,” Eddie said in apology and was already headed off to aid his wife.

Leaving Barry and Len alone with _Darhk_.

Barry growled low, letting his vampire aspects flash in warning. It didn’t matter if Darhk saw him; he _should_ see him and fear the power that simmered beneath the surface.

“Down, boy,” Darhk said snidely, utterly unfazed. “If you’re as old as I suspect, you have to have better self-control than that. Or maybe you haven’t been eating well.” He cast a glance at Len that made Barry growl louder. “Careful, how would you explain my sudden demise to that sweet family in there? Of course, you could always kill them too.”

This was why Barry didn't make friends or get close to…

He glanced at Len.

…anyone.

“But you won’t, will you?” Darhk said, almost pityingly. “You’re a nice guy who _cares_. Fascinating…”

Barry returned his attention to Darhk, forcing his face back to normal but with a firm mask of hatred in place. This man had been in Len's room, left someone dead at Len's feet, and continued to threaten both of them. “Whatever you want from me, ask it now.”

“Not yet. We haven’t finished cleaning up our messes yet.”

The anger that spiked through Barry made it difficult to stop his true nature from coming out again, and he clenched his fists to stay the change. “You _murdered_ a friend of mine.”

“Did I?” Darhk leaned closer to Barry without an ounce of fear. “You might have to be more specific.”

Barry almost lunged, seeing red everywhere in his vision—when squealing from the twins reminded him that they were not alone.  

“You can fantasize about sinking those pearly whites into my neck all you want,” Darhk taunted, “but if anything happens to me or Nora, there's a timed delivery planned for more than enough evidence to blame the two of you for everything. Baez was a parlor trick by comparison, so don't get cocky.”

He smiled brightly then, putting on a façade of pleasantness, as he strolled right passed Barry, between him and Len, into the living room.

“Where are my favorite kiddos?” he called.

Barry hated how powerless he felt, how powerless he was against a lone human, and tried to convey how sorry he was to Len. But Len was not so easily broken, it seemed, despite all he’d been through, and he put on his own façade, giving a comforting nod to Barry before he headed into the living room too.

The children were being rounded up and dried off, not protesting too much that it was time to go, as they all began their goodbyes. It was a bustle of real and false smiles, Iris and Eddie thanking them again, and the kids chiming in with their own gratitude that ended with last minute hugs around Barry’s legs, making it impossible to be completely soured by Darhk’s presence.

“Can we swim at night with you sometime, Mr. Barry?” Dawn asked with large owlish eyes blinking up at him.

“If your parents say it’s alright,” he said, glad that the smell of chlorine helped to dull any tempting smells of having the children so close, “and only if it isn’t past your bedtime.”

He shouldn’t be making friends like this or getting attached, but he’d already broken that rule for Len, and it seemed he was doomed with this sweet family too.

Still, when they were finally all out the door, Barry was glad to have Len shut it behind them.

Though it surprised him to see the smile on Len’s face.

“Why do you look so happy?” Barry crossed his arms in dejection. “That man was in my _home_.”

“I know. I didn’t think we’d get so lucky. Because now I know what he wants.”

“You do?” Barry dropped his arms in surprise.

“He was casing everything,” Len said, pulling Barry back into the living room to indicate the boxes, “especially what we’re planning to get rid of. Your maker was robbed before he was killed, right? Darhk wants what he took from you, he wants more, but I'm betting what he really wants is his next lead.”

“He wants information on other vampires.” The weight in Barry's stomach flipped jarringly, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse with this news. “And how to find them.”

“You do have considerable wealth. I imagine others like you, those old enough, which is most of the ones still alive, you said, would be just as well off.”

“Then it _is_ all about money, just more than mine. To think he'd kill for that!” At least Barry only killed to survive.

“We also know where Darhk will be tonight. Right next door.” Len's cell phone buzzed before he could say anything else, and he paused to look at it. “The Dillons won’t meet me. They’re too nervous about Baez being missing after what happened to Bivolo. That probably means the warehouse will be empty. We could lure Mardon there. You can still catch his scent, right?”

“I can find him,” Barry said. His nose was often sharper when he was hungry. “The Dillons can hide all they want. When the time comes, I’ll find them too.”

“Then I better head to Saints and Sinners, while you get a line on Mardon. We each message each other when we’re ready?”

“Does that mean you’re finally going to tell me the rest of this plan?”

Despite the dangers, despite Darhk having been there within their grasp and having scared Len so deeply, now, Len took on a look of mischief that Barry loved, proving he enjoyed the hunt just as much as he did. “I needed to be sure, but now I am. Here’s how this is going to play out…”

 

XXXXX

 

Len was proud of how everything was going to play out. It was a risk, there was the chance Darhk would throw them to the wolves before they were ready, but Len didn't think he would. Darhk would have done that by now if he believed he could still get what he wanted with them in jail or on the run. They had to go on the offensive, and Len knew exactly how.

He was all smiles when his friends joined him for dinner, especially when Nora came over to serve their table. Small talk was easy, playing things up like he really was interested to learn more about her since she was ‘dating’ his friend. She’d hover by their table, dawdling longer with them than anywhere else, because, in her words, “Anything to have more time with Ray.”

Sometimes Len could almost believe she really liked him—until the others' attention was somewhere else, and she cast him a nasty smirk.

She probably thought he was squirming in his seat, faking it all for Darhk’s sake. Let her believe that. Len was going to make them pay for what they’d done to him and Barry.

Starting by keeping an eye on where Nora touched the water glass she gave him. Len made sure he didn’t disturb the fingerprints she left when he eventually slipped the empty glass into his jacket pocket.

Nora still had a long shift ahead, so Ray wanted to linger, and Sara had no problem ordering another drink, but Len said he had to take care of something for Barry—which was true.

“Does it have to do with the accounts I hacked?” Ray whispered across the table. “Is he going to bleed them all dry?”

Len tried not to grin at that apt description. “Eventually. But promise me you never talk about any of this stuff with your girlfriend?”

“Of course not! She's a sweet, normal waitress. I prefer her thinking I’m just tech support instead of, you know…freelancing.” Ray never could stomach calling them criminals.

“I'll see you guys later,” Len said.

He slipped away but didn't try to hide it from Nora. She'd notice anyway, but he made a point of looking dejected, like he was shuffling off with his tail between his legs, unable to handle being around her.

She offered a smug little wave, and he turned around quickly in a huff—to hide the smirk that played on his lips too.

Before hopping on his bike to head to the warehouse, he texted Barry, _On my way. Find Mardon?_

_Strangely, no. I've tried his apartment, his haunts. He must be on the move. I’m going to check a few more places before I meet up with you. Be careful._

Mardon must be agitated, looking for Baez. Len didn't believe he'd ditch town any more than he believed the Dillons had. They were all far too stubborn, even if they were cowards.

The streets around the warehouse looked as empty as always. Still, Len was cautious as he listened at the entrance and heard…something. Like frantic rummaging? Maybe street kids or vagabonds had infiltrated the place.

Taking a risk, Len went inside when he found the door unlocked.

One street kid, it turned out—the one whose wrist Mardon had broken. It was clumsily wrapped to keep it stiff, and he didn't appear to be using it much as he scavenged through the room. He already had a stack of cash and items to fence that he’d been gathering on a table.

He jumped at Len's entrance, flicking out a pocket knife. At least it wasn't a gun—and this kid looked like a light breeze would knock him over.

“Relax,” Len said, holding up his hands. “I’m not with the Dillons. Not really. I’m just like you, caught up in a bad spot."

“What are you doing here then?” the kid demanded, circling wide to keep Len away from him, while never straying too far from his spoils and the bag he obviously planned to dump it all in.

“Just wondering where they ran off to. Seen any of them lately?”

“Wouldn't be here if I had. They've been gone all day. I don't think they're coming back.”

Len had wondered if they’d ditch this place, but he needed to find Mardon.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket but didn’t dare reach for it.

“Watch it!” the kid cried anyway when he tried to step closer.

Halting, Len raised his hands higher, as the kid finally gave in and started scooping what he'd stolen into his bag while his knife hand pointed at Len. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me,” Len said, “but even with them gone, you should get out of here. And don’t come back.”

“Why, coz you want everything left for yourself?” the kid snorted. 

“It’s not like that—”

“Whatever.” He finally had everything in his bag and started circling toward the entrance now. “I don't want to come back, but like it even matters.” He cringed, far too aged and broken for someone so young.

Len should know.

“We’re all the same monsters eventually,” he said and bolted out into the night.

Those parting words made Len pause, because he’d thought he knew what monsters were once, something he'd always tried to avoid becoming, but the lines had blurred over recent weeks.

Even so, he couldn’t believe the kid was right. Monsters maybe, they were all monsters, but not all monsters were created equal.

Sighing, Len looked around at what was left. The kid had taken anything of real value. The Dillons must have their computer though, because it wasn’t there and hadn’t been part of his stash. What Len needed was a lead, any lead on where Mardon might be if Barry couldn't find him.

Then he remembered his phone and reached to check his messages.

_I think he's headed toward you. Don't go inside the warehouse._

Len froze, hearing the telltale shuffle of feet behind him just as that warning sunk in, but he wasn't fast enough to turn before an arm locked around his throat.

“It was you!”

 _Mardon_.

The phone dropped from Len’s fingers as he reached up to try prying Mardon’s arm away, but he had the upper hand and was so much stronger, choking Len out when in only minutes his savor would be there to protect him.

“Mar—”

“I _knew_ it! I knew it was you!”

“S-sto—” Len gasped, trying in vain to get in any amount of air, but he couldn’t get Mardon off him.

Then suddenly Mardon let go, dropping him to his knees where he coughed into the floor, seeing his phone in front of him, lighting up with another message.

_Len? Are you there?_

Len’s shoulders were seized from behind, his body wrenched up to its feet and spun, face to face with Mardon’s snarling maw, before he punched Len hard enough to send him toppling back to the floor again.

Barry was on his way. Len just had to hold out a little longer.

Pushing past the spinning of the room, he flung himself at Mardon’s legs to grapple him, but though Mardon teetered, he kicked Len away and managed to stay upright. Then he kicked Len again, right in the ribs.

“You’re part of it!" Mardon kicked Len _again_. "You know what happened to her! Just like Bivolo! Is it Midnight?" _Again._ "Or Allen? Tell me, you fucker—!”

A blur of motion barreled into Mardon so fast and with such force, Len couldn’t be sure through his hazy vision if what he’d seen from where he gasped and groaned on the floor had really been as brutal as it looked.

“Len!” Barry’s hands were suddenly at his shoulder and face, gently checking him.

He hadn’t imagined it.

“Are you okay?”

Mardon was sputtering and groaning now too, thrown across the room to strike the wall with such force, it was like he'd been hit by a freight train.

Len, worst case, had bruised ribs and nausea to look forward to. Mardon wouldn’t be as lucky.

Because the second Len nodded that he was fine and started to right himself, Barry offered him a tender smile—and then turned cold as he stood and turned toward his prey.

 

XXXXX

 

Barry felt only cold as he moved on Mardon, crossing the expanse between them with a slow gait. He’d stunned the man enough that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not nearly fast enough.

How dare he touch Len? How dare any of them even _think_ it?

Grabbing Mardon by the back of the neck, Barry flung him into the wall and darted after him to hold him there. “If it’s any consolation, Mr. Mardon, Miss Baez did not meet her end by us. But you will.”

He swooped in to sink his teeth in deep, drinking ravenously as he kept Mardon pinned. The man was an impressive fighter, struggling valiantly against him, but when it became clear that there was no escaping Barry’s grasp, a whimper left him, and he started to plead.

“S-stop! Please! I’ll do anything!”

It was always the roughest, loudest voices who were the most cowardly.

“Shhh,” Barry whispered, lapping at the wound when he pulled his fangs free. “I’m afraid there is no end to this where you survive, but how you leave this world doesn’t have to be painful.” He turned back with a faint smear of red on his lips to see Len on his feet, holding his wounded ribs, looking on with curiosity more than fear. “You decide, Len. Does he deserve mercy?”

The mirrored coldness that took over Len’s expression, so similar to Barry's, stirred something primal in his gut that he never realized he could lust after.

“No,” Len said without waver or sympathy.

And Barry lunged back into Mardon's neck, tearing skin and sinew anew, and making a point to not be gentle.

 

XXXXX

 

Len couldn’t say he’d ever seen Barry be gentle when he fed, but when he told him not to show mercy—not to Mardon, who was harsh and cruel and unapologetic—the cries that tore from Mardon’s throat at the vicious assault Barry launched at him were enough to make Len tremble.

And he didn’t dislike the feeling.

He didn’t dislike it at all.

Len was sore and angry, and it made him feel vindicated watching Barry be brutal in his name. It made him feel invincible.

One more down, with Barry fed for another week, and the rest were soon to drop in kind.

But first they had to deal with Nora.

Barry left the body with Len as he zipped off with his impossible speed to check the back room at Saints and Sinners. When he returned and reported it empty, he was able to move both Len and Mardon across town without Len ever feeling the presence of the corpse with them.

Barry laid the body down, using a knife from the back room to slice through Mardon’s many bite marks and leave him in a similar state as Bivolo. Then he wiped the knife clean and kept watch, while Len put on a pair of gloves.

He pulled out the glass he’d taken earlier and grabbed cocoa powder from one of the shelves. After dusting the powder onto Nora’s fingerprint, he was able to transfer it to the handle of the knife using a piece of packing tape.

“Cocoa powder?” Barry questioned.  

“It’s easier to see, and it won’t seem strange in the restaurant where it came from. Anyone coming?”

“No, I can hear them all in the kitchen and main bar.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Barry whisked them out of the restaurant as easily as he’d whisked them in, without anyone seeing, until they were back at the warehouse beside Len’s bike.

“Now what?” Barry asked, holding Len tightly like he never wanted to let him go.

Len was fine with that. “Now, we call 911.”

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have da smut. ;-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the BEST. 
> 
> Well...just a small note, that those who have mentioned my robot story while commenting on this fic, I no longer plan to work on that, not any time in the near future, and a large part of it is because of how disheartening it has been to look forward to comments on THIS story and see comments on that. Feel free to add kudos and comments to that story, but don't mention how much you'd rather be reading something else on someone's work. For me, at least, it has the opposite effect, and now I'm not sure I'll ever go back to that robot idea. 
> 
> I don't want to shame anyone, I don't want you to feel bad, but just keep that in mind. It really hurts and is difficult to read, and has the opposite effect of what you intend.
> 
> For those enjoying THIS story, I appreciate you more than you know. 
> 
> Now, onto the sex and drama!

As much as part of Len wished they could head back to Barry’s place and wait out the aftermath, he knew he couldn’t hide when his friends would be some of the first to react to the news of Mardon found dead.

Barry stayed in the shadows, watching, as Len drove his bike back to the hotel. The bike hadn’t been anywhere near Saints since he left earlier, and it was going to stay that way.

By the time he arrived, Barry had texted him that the police were at the bar. They would question everyone, those who’d been on shift especially, since the body had been found in the back, and from there, Nora would be out of their way, even if she wasn’t arrested.

Len was certain her fingerprints would be in the system, but even if they weren’t, all eyes would be on her and the few others who’d been there that night. Maybe she’d claim self-defense if they pinned her, but at least now it would be a lot harder for her to help Darhk.

And he wasn't going to be happy about that.  

Sara and Ray trickled into the hotel room just as Len finished packing—his things _and_ theirs.

“What the hell, Lenny—”

“Grab your stuff, check for anything I might have missed, but we need to go.”

“Why—”

“ _Now_.”

With the urgency in his tone, Sara and Ray ceased any further arguing and got to work. They'd been through too much together to question him when he was that serious.

All three appeared as the picture of calm when they checked out and headed across town to the Marriot, which was closer to Saints and Sinners. It had to be in case anyone thought it was odd that they’d changed locations the same night as Mardon’s murder.

Len just wanted to be somewhere else and to make the move before Darhk had the chance to pay attention. He didn’t want any more surprise visits.

An hour had passed since he’d made an anonymous 911 call—when Ray got a message from Nora.

Len knew who it was immediately, because Ray looked at his phone, looked at Len like he’d been slapped, and turned on the TV.

This wasn’t some back-alley body found the next day; this was a business with a body found during working hours when frequent murders had been plaguing the city for weeks. Of course it was on the news.

“Police have yet to reveal the identity of the victim,” a reporter was saying, with the sign for Saints and Sinners clear behind her, “but he's said to be a regular at this establishment. Everyone inside, along with employees, are currently being questioned. The body was found—"

“Nora got the chance to contact me finally after being _interrogated_ ,” Ray said, eerily cold for someone usually so warm. “She says she recognizes the guy who was killed, thinks it’s a friend of _yours_ , Len. Says she remembers you talking to him at the bar.”

“Ray—"

“It's Mardon, isn't it? Or Sam Dillon?”

Len didn't answer. He could feel Ray’s eyes glaring into the side of his face. Sara’s too.

“Tell me!” Ray shrieked, the sudden cry making Len shiver. “Why is he dead in our bar, and why are they looking at Nora?”

“I’m sorry,” Len said, looking up at him slowly. “I couldn’t tell you. She’s part of this.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s always been part of this, Ray. She threatened me. She threatened _you_. She was just using you.”

“No way! You’re wrong. I… I can’t believe it.”

“Ray—”

“She didn’t kill whoever is dead in that bar! She couldn’t have!” He spun around, storming into his room and slamming the door behind him.

Len never thought he'd miss when they used to share a loft and couldn't hide from each other. Right now, he'd settle for a normal hotel room without separate doors.

It was better to not explain further, because he couldn't explain _everything_ , not about Barry, and he didn't want to lie to Ray again.

“Don’t tell her where we moved to, Ray!” he called through the door instead. “ _Please_.”

“Fine! Now, leave me alone!” Ray shouted back.

With a heavy sigh, Len looked back at Sara to see her shaking her head at him. “She threatened bodily harm to both of you if I said anything.”

“Like I’d be afraid of her.”

Admittedly, Sara and Nora might be evenly matched as petite powerhouses, but still. “She isn’t working alone.”

“The Dillons?”

“The man who hired them to hire us.”

She sighed just as heavily, lips pursed, and arms crossed in indignation. “You still should have said something. Who’s the vic?” She nodded at the screen.

“Mardon.”

“Nora didn’t kill him, did she?”

“No,” Len turned away again, “but she’d do worse. Her boss would do worse. To you. To Ray. I can’t tell you more—”

“This is what I was talking about, Lenny,” Sara hissed, keeping her voice low, but her eyes were on fire as she stalked up to him and got in his face by stretching up on her toes. “It’s all because of Allen. Look what he has you doing? Lying to us? To _us_? Framing people for murder?”

“That part was my idea,” Len said.

She rocked back on her heels, aghast, and for a moment, Len wanted to tell her everything. But she and Ray were already in too much danger.

“I have things under control—”

“You know, I think I need to be away from you right now too,” she cut him off, pushing roughly past him to retreat just like Ray, only with a slightly less jarring bang of her door.

These were his best friends, his family. He knew it must seem awful that he was choosing Barry over them, but it wasn’t like that. He was choosing all of them. He just didn’t want to have to give Barry up if he could have him and keep his friends safe at the same time.

Honestly, Len was grateful they’d shuttered themselves away to cool off. They’d forgive him, eventually. For now, he just wanted them to go to sleep, secure here in a new location.

He made sure the main door was deadbolted and the DO NOT DISTURB light turned on with the press of a button. Then he retired to his own room and softly shut the door.

This time, he wasn’t afraid of the figure hiding in the darkness, because he knew it was Barry.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, stepping from the shadows as if he’d been made of them until that moment. He must have heard everything. Of course he had.

“They’ll forgive me when it’s over.”

Barry nodded as Len moved closer. He could feel the bruises he’d have in the morning from Mardon’s attack, the soreness, the exhaustion. He’d only just completely healed from his previous beat-down. But that did nothing to diminish how much he wanted to feel Barry’s hands over every inch of his skin. 

“Would you like to go to bed?” Barry gestured at it, meaning _sleep_ , but that was the last thing on Len’s mind.

“With you,” he answered, punctuating each following phrase with another step closer. “Yes, I do. Right now. Back at the house.”

Barry’s eyes widened, and he cast a nervous glance at the door.

“They’ll be fine. Even if Darhk tracks us, that won’t be until tomorrow.”

“He was at the scene,” Barry confirmed, “so I know he didn’t follow you.”

“Then let’s go home.” Len used the word purposely, completing his trek into Barry’s arms and cuddling against his chest. “You can bring me back in the morning. I don’t want to miss another chance to be with you, Barry.

“All of you.”

 

XXXXX

 

 _All_ of him.

Len wanted…

 _Yes_. Barry wanted that too.

Mardon had tasted far better than Bivolo had, less diluted by drugs and drink, and Barry felt revitalized and that much more in control by having Len with him, helping him through this mess with Darhk as a true partner, instead of someone who only wanted things from him.

Well, Len wanted some things, but mostly to be with Barry and all his sharp and complicated edges.

Barry brought them back to the house, directly up to the bedroom. All he wanted was to keep Len in his arms and kiss him, but still, he had to ask, “Are you sure we're doing enough?”

“Why do you think I had you bring me back to your place?” Len grinned.

“I mean about the situation!”

Len knew that, of course, only teasing him, but while the smile slipped from Len’s face, he looked resolute. “We need to find proof that Nora and Darhk are connected. Or that Darhk and Bender are the same person. Or both. With Nora under scrutiny by the police, it'll be easier to figure that out.”

“Sounds easier said than done.”

“There has to be a trail,” Len said. “I’m also hoping that once Ray calms down, he'll use his hacking skills to help us. With that account, he has Darhk’s real name. From there, I know he can do it.”

“It’s still a tall order, but it does seem like our only option.”

“Tell me if you have a better one. You're the expert.”

“At covering my tracks, not pointing them at someone else or playing detective.” Barry's idea would have been to just kill them both, but if Darhk was telling the truth about timed evidence sent to the police in the event of his or Nora’s deaths, then he’d have to run again.

And there were so many things worth staying for.

Len smirking at him was one, close enough that he could feel the contact of their bodies all down the length of him from chest to thigh, with a hint of arousal and promise in his eyes.

“It’s late, I’m tired, but before I sleep, I want _you_ ,” Len said plainly, “and to only think about you for as long as I can. Tomorrow, once we know how things stand with Nora, we’ll move forward. I have ideas for every possible way this can go, but right now, all I need to know is… how do you feel?” He slid his hands from Barry’s hips down and around to squeeze his ass and pull them tighter together.

“G-good,” Barry said with a shudder.

“Satiated?”

“I don't… know about that. But I’m not hungry right now for anything but this.” Barry gently gripped the side of Len’s face and pulled him in for a kiss.

Len responded without hesitation, even though Barry’s mouth and fangs had been stained in blood only an hour ago. They needed to wash their clothes or incinerate everything in case there were traces remaining, but that could come later.

As they kissed, at first, Barry didn’t feel any of his true nature stirring, so well fed from earlier, but Len’s hands shucking up his shirt to paw at his abdomen made him rumble a growl. He let Len tear the shirt over his head, careful not to literally tear Len’s shirt when he returned the favor, and they both went for each other’s pants.

Divesting Len of his clothing, seeing him bare and being bare for him in return, brought out Barry’s sharpness after all, his eyes glowing and fangs extending. He was too conditioned to separate the two desires, since everyone he’d been with since he was turned had been a vampire and clawing and biting at each other was part of the exchange, encouraged and safe, because both were nearly impossible to kill.

With Len, Barry had to be gentle. He had to be so careful, and that made Len even more precious to him, something fragile but all his. Not a possession, Len wasn’t just another _thing_ Barry owned to fill up a long life spent mostly alone, but a companion he could imagine wanting to keep.

Gathering Len in his arms, Barry laid him out on the bed, taking in his lean figure and tanned skin, as well as the warmth and affection in his eyes.

Len touched Barry’s brow, and then down to his lips to lightly tap his fangs.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, turning to lightly kiss Len’s fingertips. “I can’t seem to hold back around you, but I still want to try this. I won’t let myself hurt you.”

“I know,” Len said, drawing his thumb across Barry’s lips. “Open me up, Barry. Get me ready for you. Then I have plans for how this can go too.”

“Do you?” Barry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just living up to my job description as your personal assistant.”

Barry laughed, and the break in tension helped his face to become human again—at least for a little while.

He made sure Len was comfortably stretched out on the bed, as he settled between his legs. While his fangs were retracted, he wanted to get his mouth on Len and bring him as close to the brink as possible.

Len’s length made Barry’s mouth water more than any pulsing neck veins, that human smell of salt and sweat and pheromones assaulting him. He twirled his tongue around Len’s head, humming at the pleasant taste, and sucked him in with his teeth carefully held back.

Len’s hands went straight for Barry’s hair, carding through the locks and tugging gently as he whined in approval. “I won’t last long… if you start like _this_ ,” he mumbled breathlessly.

“Yes, you will.” Barry grinned impishly, darting out his tongue once more with a light flick. “I believe in you. Now, can you reach the drawer there?” He nodded at the nightstand.

It was a struggle without scooting away from Barry, but Len managed to open it and slip his hand inside, finding what Barry intended right away and pulling out a bottle of lube. Usually, Barry only tended to himself, but now, finally, he had a partner.

Tantalizing as it was to imagine Len wetting Barry’s fingers again, he needed to stretch him properly. The smooth silkiness of the lube helped to warm his otherwise cold skin, and he reveled in Len’s contented sigh at the first press of a finger, while at the same time, Barry sucked Len’s cock down his throat again.

Len’s moan was his reward, but he was vigilant to the patterns of Len’s breathing, the tightening of his fingers in the bedding beneath and in Barry’s hair, and the tension in his muscles. Barry didn’t want Len to come just yet; he wanted him teetering on the edge without being able to topple over it.

Whenever Len seemed close, Barry would taper off, changing his firm sucking and rhythmic bobs to slow, teasing licks and the blow of warm breath against Len’s skin.

“F-fuck…”

He added a second finger.

“ _Shit!_ ”

“What are these plans of yours, Len?” Barry asked, pumping his digits in and out slowly, scissoring every few thrusts.

“I-I want…” Len whined louder as he hoisted his hips off the bed, presenting himself to Barry that much more wantonly, “…to switch positions so I can ride you. Keep you pinned. I’ll ride you so sweetly, Barry, you’ll never want to leave this bed.”

Barry grazed a third finger along Len’s rim, gradually letting the tip slip inside until he no longer needed to thrust, because Len was unabashedly rocking his hips down on Barry’s fingers with constant mewling noises spilling from his throat.

“That sounds lovely,” Barry said, meaning the noises and Len’s plan. He tore his attentions from Len’s cock, feeling his fangs starting to lengthen again with the rise of his arousal. “Yes… I want to grip your thighs while you fuck yourself on my length until your cries fill this room.”

 “Argnn,” Len moaned incoherently, dropping his hips down and seizing Barry by the shoulders to throw him down on the mattress, dislodging Barry’s fingers finally, as he scrambled to take Barry’s place on top. “You need to talk dirty more often,” he husked, kissing Barry roughly while straddling him and rocking his hips back to tease Barry’s tip along his slick and ready hole.

Barry rocked up to meet him, feeling that torturous slide and wet slap. He wanted to fuck Len, but he wanted Len to decide when, to guide him in so he knew how much Len could handle and at what speed. It would be so easy for Barry to lose himself and forget his own strength with how amazing even just _this_ felt with Len’s thighs spread across his hips.

Slowing their kiss, wet and hungry, but still careful around his fangs, Barry reached up Len’s thighs and squeezed like he’d promised. Len moaned in response, reaching behind him to grip Barry’s shaft and hold him right where he needed to be to properly sit _back_.

Barry broke from Len’s lips completely with the force of his own moan.

 _Finally_. He could feel Len’s tight muscles devouring him inch by inch, slow but easy from how well he’d stretched Len. He wanted to pump upward with abandon but clenched his eyes shut to make his inner beast behave.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Len’s were closed, his brow scrunched, as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth, chest heaving and looking positively lost in his lust as he seated himself on Barry fully. Then he groaned indulgently as his eyes opened, heavy-lidded with his lips reddened and his cheeks flush.

Breathtaking. Barry wanted to taste the robust rush of Len’s blood more than anything in that moment.

 _No_. He had to stay focused—

Len surged down to kiss him, sending Barry’s fractured psyche of man-made-beast into a spiral of conflicting desires, because in that same motion, Len started to rock, sliding Barry’s cock in—and out— _in_ —and then slamming down again, taking him to the hilt. He found a rhythm quickly, kissing around Barry’s fangs without any worry at all.

But he should be worried. He should always be worried, always think of protecting himself, because Barry was a predator first and it was dangerous to forget that.

Len’s moans came more insistently, mouth turning to the side to pant, puffing warm, sweet-smelling breath on Barry’s cheek. He let their foreheads press together as he rawed himself on Barry in a frenzy.

“I knew you’d feel good…”

And Barry knew Len would taste amazing.

He smelled amazing. _Felt_ amazing, every slick, hot slide of him, muscles clenching on Barry tighter with each thrust. Barry wanted to possess him entirely, to have every part of him as his— _his_. He wanted to claim Len and take all of him as his own, the true nature of his beast overtaking him, mind reeling with nothing but thoughts of sweat and come and _blood_ —and tearing into Len to get it.

The primal urges grew stronger, until Barry couldn’t stand it anymore when Len made eye contact, pupils blown, and huffed, “ _Fuck me_ , Barry. I know you got more in you.”

Barry was on top again in an instant, having roared at the taunt, grabbing Len around the waist and flipping them with such speed that Len couldn’t possibly have processed it. Barry held Len’s back, tilting him up into his mad thrusts so that only Len’s neck and head touched the mattress.

He slammed into him so hard, Len shouted, a keen of pleasure that made Barry want to go harder, _deeper_. Len’s hands flailed up to find some part of him to grasp onto, barely dragging up Barry’s chest, but as he got higher, Barry snapped down to suck one of Len’s fingers into his mouth and let his fangs scrape the skin.

“ _Fuck_ , Barry, I… I…!”

Len was there, right there without Barry having to touch his cock again, merely thrusting inside him and sucking his finger like he might eat it whole.

Barry was close too, but there was still one thing he wanted, one thing he couldn’t shake away, and as much as a part of him was screaming, “No! Stop!” it was his nature and oh so easy to nudge that finger from his mouth, knock Len’s arms aside too, and swoop down while still fucking Len to get at his neck.  

He shouldn’t need it, he _didn’t_ need it, but he still sank his fangs deep into the curve of Len’s throat for a rush of warm blood to flood his tongue.

 

XXXXX

 

Barry’s fangs had sunk into Len’s throat, and at first, it was so unexpected, Len didn’t even feel it, only the continued, unrivaled bliss of Barry slamming into his prostate with a force and skill no other lover could match.

But then Len did feel it—the fangs, the blood draining from him, the pain.

“Bar—”

Barry latched on tighter, sucking harder, hips still madly pumping. Len couldn’t speak, couldn’t fight at first, too stunned to do more than gasp.

Then, just when he was ready to thrash and try to throw Barry off him, the pain faded. Barry’s bite was warm and sharp and dizzying at once, but it didn’t hurt. It was almost… nice. And as Len surrendered to it, still right on the brink, the combined pleasure of Barry’s arms around him, his fangs, his _cock_ , finally let him come.

It was glorious.

He felt Barry come inside him soon after but was unable to verbalize how amazing it had been because he was slipping quickly into a deep… dark… sleep.

“Len!”

Len startled awake like he did only after the deadest of slumber—or after passing out when Sara coaxed him into too many tequila shots.

For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was or anything that had happened, until he took in the bedroom and slowly started to remember his night with Barry.

They’d had sex.

It was incomparably hot.

Then Barry had bitten him.

Which had only made it hotter.

“Thank god,” Barry’s voice came again, right there at his bedside.

He wasn’t in it though. He wasn’t naked anymore either. He was dressed, and the room was brighter, because there was sunshine trying to steal in through the curtains.

“Here, please. You need to eat something.” Barry pushed a glass of water and a plate with a very greasy and delicious looking grilled cheese on top of it.

Len hadn’t realized how staved he was until the smell hit him. He sat up to accept the food, but almost laid back down right away when the room spun. He was just so hungry. And dizzy. And still really tired. So, before he even spoke or gave any word of thanks, he rudely tore into the sandwich.

“ _Shit_ ,” he gasped, after swallowing a large bite and downing a gulp of water. “Guess this is what donating blood feels like.” He tried to chuckle, but Barry did not look amused.

He remained crouched by the side of the bed, as if refusing to get closer. He looked like he was sitting vigil at Len’s funeral instead of offering a much-needed breakfast.

“Hey,” Len said, speaking around his chewing, since he knew how much he needed the nourishment, “I hope I didn’t taste that bad to give you such a sour face.”

“Don’t joke,” Barry bit out, sharp and angry, and then immediately looked sorry for snapping. “There is nothing to joke about, Len. I nearly killed you.”

“What are you talking about?” Len set the plate aside, though he couldn’t get rid of the water glass without it toppling. “I call this a win. I was ready to celebrate.”

“How can you say that?” Barry clenched his eyes shut, failing to stop the tears that squeezed free. “It must have been so painful, so frightening for you when I attacked. It was only after a came that I realized…”

Len moved across the bed, dizziness be damned, and set the glass on the nightstand so he could take Barry’s face in his hands. “Barry, come on, look at me. Yeah, the worst happened, but you still stopped yourself. Don’t you see that? I’m fine. And it didn’t hurt.”

Barry opened his eyes to gawk at Len skeptically.

“Okay it hurt a little, but only at first. Maybe because you didn’t want to hurt me, after the initial sting, it started to feel… good. Honestly, I think it helped me finish.” It was then that Len realized he didn’t feel sticky anywhere, which meant Barry had cleaned him and tucked him into bed, worrying over him all night until he woke up. “I’m just sorry I fell asleep right after so I couldn’t tell you how amazing it was.”

With a small, miserable looking smile, Barry reached up to place his hand over Len’s on his cheek. “You’re sweet. I can say without embellishment that that was amazing for me too, better than anything I’ve ever experienced with another in all my years—until I ruined it. We can’t keep doing this, Len. I know you thought it would be okay, that I just needed to ease in and adjust, but look what happened? I can’t risk it happening again and not being able to stop.”

“What are you saying?” Len knew the grip he had on Barry’s cheek and the back of his neck was becoming too desperate and cloying, but all he could imagine now was Barry pulling away from him. “Don’t do this. We’ll figure it out. I’m fine. I’m right _here_. You didn’t hurt me—”

“But I did. And it’s too risky to try again.” Barry attempted to pull away then, but Len held fast.

“There’s an obvious fix, you already know it, and you’d never have to be afraid again,” Len spoke before he’d fully thought about what he was saying. They’d danced around it, but he’d never actually asked, and Barry hadn’t offered.

“Len… it’s not that simple,” Barry said, clinging just as tightly to Len’s hand on his cheek.

“Why not? If you want me. If I’m willing. And I _am_ willing. Barry, I could be like you—”

“No.” Barry shook his head, the somber expression he wore tearing at Len’s chest, but not nearly as badly as when Barry pried Len’s hands off, using his superior strength to pull away and stand. “This is why I don’t make friends. Why I don’t take lovers or get close to anyone. Ever.

“I never thought someone could see me at my worst, at my most brutal, and still look at me the way you do, but the reality is you’ve only known me for less than two months. _Weeks_. You’re young. You can’t ask for forever when you haven’t even lived one lifetime.”

“Says who?” Len spat, sitting up further and feeling the room tilt around him. “You weren’t that much older than me when you were changed.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. My maker never meant to me what you do.”

“And no one’s ever meant to me what you do! Go ahead and think I’m just some dumb kid who doesn’t get it, but does that mean my feelings don’t matter? Do you think you’re not worth someone wanting to be with you forever?”

Barry looked away, shame and anguish washing over his face and making his answer clear.

“Well, I do,” Len said, dropping his feet over the side of the bed, naked still and not caring, because he needed Barry to come back to him. “I’ve tried not to think about it, okay? To just enjoy what we’ve had, but you’re right. Our time together has been the blink of an eye, less for you, I’m sure. That doesn’t change how I feel or how much I’d…” He laughed as the phrase came to him. “How much I’d gladly stay in the Underworld with you if you’d give me the same choice Hades gave Persephone.”

Barry’s eyes snapped back to him at that. “Len…”

“You’re afraid you’ll hurt me again, or that if you turn me, I’ll regret it. And I’m telling you right now that neither of those things is going to happen.” He reached for Barry’s face and neck again, satisfied that Barry didn’t try to escape, and pulled him down for another promising kiss.

“I love you, Barry,” Len whispered.

An immediate gasp shuddered from Barry’s lips like he’d never believed he’d ever hear Len say that.

So, he said it again, “I love you,” and leaned up once more.

The chime of the doorbell stopped Len a hair’s breadth from Barry’s lips, and he laughed again without any humor.

Every time.

Barry pulled away to cross the room and peer out the curtains down to the driveway below. “It’s Eddie and Darhk,” he said with a growl. “Your bike’s back at the hotel. We could ignore them—”

“We can’t.” Len tossed the covers aside to get up. He didn’t see his clothes from last night—Barry must have disposed of them already—so he went to the dresser to grab something, impressed that he only teetered a little.

“What are you doing?” Barry raced to his side with a burst of supernatural speed, his hands suddenly at Len’s waist and elbow to aid him. “Get back to bed.”

“I’m fine. We don’t know what they want. You need me to go down there with you, make sure Darhk isn’t about to try something we can’t predict. Just help me get dressed, and I’ll finish that sandwich on the way downstairs.”

The doorbell rang again, signaling their impatience. While Barry still scowled, he helped Len as quickly as he could so they could answer the call, sandwich devoured, and plate set aside as they arrived in the foyer just as the bell rang a third time.

“Sorry about that,” Len answered the door so Barry could stay in the shadows. “We were still in bed. Everything okay, Detectives?” He smiled genuinely at Eddie and boldly back at Darhk, whose cold eyes betrayed his fury.

Good. It was nice to see him mad.

“Cut yourself shaving, Len?” Eddie asked with a friendly chuckle.

Len’s hand went to his neck. He hadn’t thought about the bite marks, but Barry had bandaged the wound, which suddenly reminded Len of his cut from Nora. “Perils of going through antiques, I guess. Sometimes you catch yourself on sharp edges. What can I do for you two on a Saturday morning?”

“May we come in, Mr. Wynters?” Darhk pressed.

“Of course. Barry!” Len called as he opened the door for them to enter. “It’s our detective friends again.”

Barry, despite how he might actually be feeling, came in as the perfect host. “Hello again. Does this have anything to do with the news and that bar Len frequents? We heard there was a body found after I picked him up from the hotel last night.”

They should have discussed alibis, but that was as good an explanation as any for why Len was there without his bike. Lacking footage of Barry getting Len in his car was better than conflicting footage somewhere else, and they wouldn’t find anything like that. Saints and Sinners didn’t have cameras inside, and Barry had moved too quickly for other surveillance to catch them.

“Don’t worry, neither of you is under any suspicion,” Eddie assured them, while Darhk’s eyes glowed with fierceness around his fake smile. “Charles at the bar confirmed that Len left well before the murder could have taken place, but we still need to question everyone who was there last night. Anything you can tell us, Len, about suspicious characters?”

Len let himself chuckle. “It’s not the most reputable of places, but the food’s good and cheap, and my friend is dating one of the waitresses, so you know how it is. I can’t say I noticed anything out of the ordinary. Honestly, the weirdest thing would just be Nora, and only because she’s only been there a few weeks.” A wicked pleasure coursed through him at being able to say all that and not have any of it be a lie.

“Right, that would be Nora _Starling_. Of course, we can’t tell you anything about an ongoing investigation or who might be suspects, but your friend is dating her, huh? Ray Palmer, was it?”

Nora must have given them the name, which could simply mean she was covering her tracks but could also be concerning. “That’s him. I’m afraid I don’t know Nora very well though to offer any insight.”

“Charles mentioned Ray and another friend of yours, Sara? They both work at the mall, right? We’ll likely check in with them later too. I had a feeling you might be here, but can you give me another address to find you all?”

So much for moving hotels. “Sure,” Len said, and gave them the name and room number. “We actually moved last night to have a better rate on long-term stay, since we’re all between places right now, and so Ray could be closer to Nora. Crazy that all this is happening.”

“And you weren’t with Mr. Wynters until you picked him up after dinner?” Darhk asked Barry.

“No,” Barry said simply.

There wasn’t much else to say. It was still all circumstantial and coincidental that death kept happening around Len and Barry, but Len wasn’t a fool as to think Darhk calling him _Wynters_ every chance he got wasn’t without purpose.

“Hey, Eddie, I need to come clean about something,” Len said. “Barry knows now, and I don’t want to lie to you anymore. My name isn’t really Len Wynters.”

Eddie looked sincerely shocked—Barry too that Len was admitting this _now_ , though he did a good job of hiding it—while Darhk kept a cool, neutral expression.

“I lied to Barry when I applied for this job because I have a record. My real name is Len Snart.”

“That’s fraud,” Eddie said in disappointment. “A name might not seem like a big deal, but if you lied about a degree or your criminal record, the state penal code—”

“I know. I swear I only did it to secure this job, and the only person affected was Barry.”

“And I have no intention of pressing charges,” Barry said. “He’s been nothing but stalwart, and this is a private position, after all.”

“Yes, it’s obvious you enjoy all sorts of _private_ positions,” Darhk said, earning a scowl from Eddie, though there wasn’t much to defend since Len had already admitted he’d slept there last night.

“There won’t be any sexual harassment suits either,” Len replied snidely.

“Look,” Eddie tried to mediate, “this isn’t exactly a situation where you’d actually get slapped with a fine, Len, but I’m glad you told me. I may have done a background check on ‘Len Wynters’ after we met. I’m a husband and father after all. And a detective.” He shrugged. “And I get it, you didn’t think you could get a second chance if Barry knew your background. It’s a good thing you were upfront about this now, or it could have looked really bad if we found out another way.”

“My thinking exactly.” Len nodded at Eddie, and then looked right at Darhk. “I don’t want my mistakes to reflect badly on Barry.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said, “I don’t see how this could possibly be related to the murders. I will have to run another background check on you though.”

“I’m sure you’ll shake your head at my juvi record.” Len hadn’t been caught or charged with any of his recent crimes.

“Just theft, I assume, no assault?”

“Never any violent crimes, I promise.” Which was technically true, even if now Len was an accessory.

“I wouldn’t have thought so, but I had to ask. No offense, but neither of you really seem like the violent types. We should get out of your hair—” Eddie’s phone started going off. “Oh shoot. It’s the precinct. If you have any other questions, Bender, go ahead. I’ll just take this.” He nodded out the door. “Thanks again, you two.”

Once Eddie was gone, they were alone with Darhk.

All pretense dropped from them in an instant.

“Nora’s fingerprints _are_ in the system,” Darhk said, “under multiple names, but no one is going to find that out. Nice try.”

The grilled cheese had settled Len’s stomach and his dizziness but seeing Darhk squirm helped even more. “You let her do all your dirty work, huh? She must be pretty disposable.”

Darhk’s eyes burned with how much he was trying to hide his reaction. “Don’t get cocky. This changes nothing. It’s time for you to decide who you want this newest murder to point to, because it won’t be her.

“Finish the Dillons. _Today_. And no more frame jobs. When it’s over, message me, and I’ll tell you where to meet. Then we end this, no more games, and I’ll tell you everything I want. Have a nice day, gentlemen,” he finished sharply, and turned on his heels to slam the door behind him.

They _had_ him.

“He’s scared.” Len turned to Barry. “But I can’t risk him being too scared. Can I ask my friends to come here? It’ll make things easier convincing Ray to help us, and I’d feel better having them close.”

“Of course. But Len…” Barry’s voice was soft, drawing Len’s eyes up from his phone as he took it out to send a text message. “I know all this takes precedent, but we still need to discuss—”

“No, we don’t,” Len said with a frown, broaching no argument, because he knew exactly what Barry wanted to talk about. “There is no discussion. It’s just a question. Do you love me back or not? That’s all that matters.” He looked back at his phone to finish the text, mostly to still his anxiety from asking that question, unsure how Barry would answer.

Barry was silent, but there was an answering text from Sara immediately.

_If you’re finally going to be honest with us, we’re already on our way._

Len wished she hadn’t worded it like that, because there was never going to be a time when he could tell them everything.

Barry still hadn’t spoken, so Len had to look up now, but when he did, Barry’s head was turned, and his eyes had gone wide.

“Barry—”

“Shh,” he shushed Len harshly, craning his ear toward the living room. “Their car’s almost down the driveway, but I can still hear—” He cut off abruptly, moving lightning fast to Len’s side like he had upstairs, only this time, it was to guard Len behind him like a human shield.

Len realized several things at once.

They hadn’t heard the patio door because they’d been too focused on Eddie and Darhk.

There were _two_ _people_ in Barry’s home, and neither of them was a detective.

The Dillons both had guns.

“At last we meet, Mr. Allen,” Sam said as he crested the corner from the living room, followed by his wife, both prim and pressed yet somehow haggard looking. “So glad you could send those detectives away so easily, because we need to have this chat in private.”

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, just in time for a long weekend where I won't get to write. 
> 
> If anyone is in the Twin Cities area in Minnesota, I'll be at the Renaissance Festival both Saturday and Sunday selling my books. Come check it out!
> 
> And now...this.

Sam and Rosa hadn’t seen Barry’s inhuman flash to Len’s side, but Len could feel the tension in him as he shielded him from the menacing aim of their guns.

Barry wanted to tear them apart, but he shouldn’t, he _couldn’t_ , not when they hadn't planned for this and cops had literally just left the driveway.

“Don't,” Len whispered so the others wouldn't hear but Barry could. “We can use this.”

Stepping up beside Barry and seeing the stiffness in him ratchet up that much tighter, Len knew he had to be the one to speak. “We can have whatever chat you want, but you don't need those.” He nodded at the guns.

They would hardly phase Barry, but he'd admitted that enough blood loss could still kill him, and Len didn't want to learn what it felt like to get shot.

“Oh, I think we do,” Rosa said, keeping her gun on Barry, while Sam stayed focused on Len, “considering all our friends are dead, and this all started with _you_.” It was impossible to tell which of them she was speaking too, but likely both.

They were squared off across the foyer, Len and Barry near the main doors, and Sam and Rosa poised at the living room entrance.

“Not going to question Baez, huh?” Sam said before Len could answer. “She's still only missing, but I'm guessing you can tell us what happened to her.”

“We had nothing to do with that,” Len said—though they had planned to eventually.

“ _That_ ,” Rosa repeated with a clip of the consonant. “Which means you do know what happened.”

“And Allen looks like he knows exactly who we are,” Sam eyed Barry gaugingly, “so either he’s psychic, or you’ve been playing triple agent.”

Quadruple in some ways. “Listen—” Len tried.

“Don't pretend you're not in this together!” Rosa spat, thrusting her gun forward. “We just want to know who to point these at.”

“ _Midnight_.”

“Like you're not working with him too!”

“I’m not. I just made him think I was, because like you, he was threatening me and my friends,” Len growled.

“As well as pretty rich boy there.” Sam kept his gaze on Barry.

“Yes, Barry knows everything I know, but Midnight is the real threat. He just left.”

“Those were cops,” Rosa said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, and he was one of them.”

That got the Dillons to drop their guards, glancing warily at each other.

“He pretends to be Detective Ken Bender,” Len went on quickly, “but his real name is Damien Darhk. I know exactly who Midnight is, and his accomplice. Nora Starling from Saints and Sinners.”

“The waitress?” Sam snapped back to him.

“Where Mardon was killed,” Rosa added with a sneer.

“Yes. We don’t have to be on opposite sides. We can take on Darhk together,” Len said, because honestly, it was the perfect shift in the plan. If something went wrong, he had more options to place the blame on. “Trust me, he won't see that coming.”

They still had their guns raised, and while Rosa looked contemplative, Sam was less the trusting type. He shifted his eyes back to Barry. “You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Allen.”

“You’re pointing a gun at me in my home,” Barry said evenly. His expression was that cold stillness that always made Len take pause, surprised that someone so adorable and sweet could also be ominous.  

“Darhk wants us to kill you,” Len broke back in to keep the attention on him, “and to message him when it’s done so we can meet. But if we work together, we can set a trap, make it easier on all of us to take him down.”

Rosa’s arm had started to lower, eyes on her husband, who stared at Len as he considered the offer, and then finally tilted his head.

“So, Midnight, this Darhk, is waiting for you to message him on that phone that we're dead,” he indicated the cell in Len’s hand that he’d nearly forgotten, “and then he'll say where to meet him?”

Len noticed the grins spreading across their faces too late.

“Wait—!”

The guns went off in rapid succession, and Len’s instinct was to shut his eyes, bracing for the pain of Sam’s bullets striking his chest, while Rosa fired at Barry—only to feel nothing after a breathless beat and open his eyes to see that Barry had moved to cover him.

Arms enveloping Len like a true shield now, Barry faced Len, eyes glowing with a furious vengeance.

He pushed Len backward as he spun and sprang forward, tackling Rosa in a blur. Her gun went flying as he tore into her throat, not using any of the care or restraint he'd shown with Len.

Len could see the bullet holes in the back of Barry’s shirt, and for a moment, he was utterly frozen.

Then he remembered Sam, who was so stunned, he hadn’t moved, arm lowered with his gun aimed at the floor as he stared in horror at what Barry was doing to his wife.

Len dove forward before Sam could recover, grabbing his wrist and twisting it to get him to drop the gun. That was enough for Sam’s fight instincts to kick in, and he whipped around, but before he could do more than grab clumsily at Len’s arms, Len used the momentum of his body against him to launch Sam toward one of the radios. Aiming to pierce Sam’s temple on the corner of the table it rested on, he slammed Sam down as hard as he could.

Sam crumpled and lay still, blood quickly pooling beneath his head.

The adrenaline coursing through Len reminded him of how weak he was, how dizzy, but he fought past the spinning of the room. Barry was watching as he fed from Rosa, vigilant to a single perilous moment when Len might need his aid again.

Because Len had to roll Sam over to check him, to make sure he was taken care of, and when he did, Sam’s jacket fell open to reveal a second gun and a knife in his coat.

“Y-you f-fucking… _freaks_ …” Sam gasped, holding to consciousness but barely able to focus or move after that blow.

Len grabbed the knife, hands trembling but only for a moment.

Sam tried to grab his wrist to stop him, but Len batted him away. He wasn’t letting anyone take what he’d found with Barry.

Not Darhk.

Not Nora.

And not the Dillons.

“Just die already,” he snarled and rammed the blade down into Sam’s chest.

Coughing and sputtering at first, Sam soon stilled—this time for good.

He was dead. Len had killed him.

Len had killed someone, and had the blood pouring over his hands…

“Len,” Barry’s voice startled him, half a growl since he still had Rosa on the ground, who wasn’t fully gone yet but dazed and completely immobile in his arms.

“I’m okay,” Len said, thinking maybe he shouldn’t be— _okay_ ; how could he be okay?—but it all kept getting easier.

Barry continued to drink from Rosa until her eyes went glassy.

Len left the knife in Sam’s chest, standing and wiping his hands on his pants. They’d have to burn these clothes too. They were going to need another shopping trip at this rate.

That morbid thought almost made him smile.

As Barry wiped his mouth with his sleeve, having been messier than that first night when he killed that man on his patio, Len didn’t know how to ask if he could feed from someone who was already dead, and whether or not he could store up if he fed from multiple people in short order.

“Do you want…umm… I mean, _can_ you…?” He gestured meekly at Sam.

“I’ll drink what I’m able. I heal quickly,” he said, leaving Rosa and showing off the holes in his shirt, but while there had been blood, it wasn’t flowing anymore and there didn’t appear to be any wounds, “but I need more to replenish the energy it takes. Better to feed as much as I can.”

“Waste not, want not,” Len said with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked despite Len’s earlier answer.

“Yeah. Really. More than I thought I'd be. Because you saved me,” Len said with a smile, dead bodies at their feet be damned. “Again.”

“You didn't do so bad yourself.” Barry smiled in kind.

There was an energy between them, like the wrong sides of connecting magnets; they wanted to touch, to kiss, to hold each other and comfort one another, but the blood staining them kept them at a distance.

Even standing apart though, there was a warmth in that energy too.

Len didn’t want to watch Barry feed again, since he began doing so much slower with Sam, being in the safety of his own home with no additional threats, but there was no point in cleaning up yet when they still needed to get rid of the bodies and follow the trail of the Dillons to the house to make sure no one had seen them or knew they’d come here.

Everything was a mess all over again, and Len wasn’t sure how to fix it.

“What… the _hell_?”

His head snapped back to the living room entrance—where Ray and Sara now stood!

They must have seen the patio door open and decided to come in from there instead of the front.

Because Len had called them, told them to come here, and too much time had passed while they dealt with the Dillons.

Who were dead. And Barry was lapping the blood from Sam’s chest.

A growl rumbled up from him, eyes flashing, as Sara and Ray, terrified looking and choosing flight over fight, backed up into the living room and turned to turn. They bolted back where they’d come from, and Len hurried after them to stop them.

“Wait!”

Barry reached the patio doors first, just suddenly standing there to block their escape, like a movie monster come to life.

Ray screamed and grabbed onto Sara, who clutched right back at him, both backpedaling to keep away from Barry and running right into Len.

“It's _okay_.”

They immediately spun and honestly looked like they wanted to get away from Len just as much as Barry.

“He won't hurt you,” Len said, hands outstretched and placating.

But when they all looked back at Barry, he hadn’t dropped his vampire face.

Why hadn’t he dropped that face?

“Barry,” Len said in concern.

But Barry kept looking at _them_.

“They're not a threat.” He hurried around Sara and Ray to get in front of them. “They're my friends. They'll listen to me.”

Barry's stance remained taut like a springboard ready to snap—

“You _promised_.”

Then, finally, the light flickered from his eyes, fading from yellow to green again, and his fangs vanished. “I…I’m sorry. You’re right. I promised to protect all of you, and I will.”

Len breathed relief. It had just been a stressful, unprecedented morning. He knew Barry hadn't meant it.

“The _fuck_?” Sara cried, less quick to be understanding. “What the fuck, Lenny?!”

“This is why I couldn't tell you everything.” He turned back to them. “I didn't want to ever tell you if I didn't have to, but we didn't know the Dillons were going to ambush us.”

“He's a vampire…” Ray remained wide-eyed staring at Barry, still clutching Sara’s arm. “He's a fucking vampire!”

Len knew things were bad when Ray actually cursed. “He's on our side. He's was just being defensive, mostly because of me. He'd never hurt me. Or you.”

Sara kept her hold on Ray to comfort him, but when her gaze landed on the side of Len's neck, she reached out furiously to rip the bandage from his bike marks, revealing them to be exactly what she'd thought.

Ray's eyes went wider as he saw them too.

“You stay away from us!” she roared at Barry, pushing Ray into Len's arms so fast, he hardly registered her storming around him and whipping the bandage in Barry’s face. “And you stay away from him!”

Letting the bandage strike him and fall, Barry flinched and backed away as if ashamed.

“I don’t care if you can do to us what you did to them, to Mardon and who knows the fuck else! I won't have you using Len like a goddamn juice box!”

“Sara!” Len called to stop her. “That's not what this is!”

“Like hell!” She yelled back at him.

“He’s tried to push me away. He’s just as afraid of using me or hurting me, but that is not what this is.” Len left Ray where he was and stalked forward, not to Sara, but right up to Barry, standing in front of the patio doors that were still open with too much sun coming in. “I love you. Tell me you don't love me.”

“Len…” Barry flinched again, refusing to look at him at first, so Len reached for his face and made him turn his head, not caring that Barry's cheek was smeared with blood.

“I love you,” Len said again, and Barry’s eyes looked so soft then, as he pressed his cheek into Len’s touch.

“I love you too,” he said, filling Len’s whole chest with flutters, “but she's right. I'm just a hazard to you.”

“I don’t care,” Len said stubbornly, but if they were going to argue about this again, he didn't want to do it in front of Sara and Ray. “You’re worth it, Barry, all of this, and I won’t let you think otherwise. Now,” he pulled away to stare down his friends, “we’re going to clean up this mess and figure out our next move.”

 

XXXXX

 

Their next move…

The next move should be for Barry to run and make up for all the heartache he'd caused Len, but he couldn't let Len sort through this alone.

Barry didn't know what to say, finally meeting Sara and Ray under the worst of circumstances and acting so deplorably, so he offered to handle the bodies.

“Don’t dispose of them,” Len said. “Just put them in the basement and wrap them up in a way that you can easily transport later.”

Barry didn’t ask why, just nodded and did as he was told. It should have been a strange phenomenon for him, at least where it came to getting rid of bodies, but not when the orders came from Len.

Len said he’d take care of most of the cleaning if Sara and Ray went out to look for the Dillons’ vehicle, figure out how they’d gotten there without the cops noticing. Len trusted them to leave and come back.

By the time Barry had finished in the basement, having cleaned himself and changed as well and putting his dirtied clothes in the incinerator, Sara and Ray had indeed returned and were arguing heatedly with Len in the foyer.

“Len—”

“I don’t want to hear it. All that matters is that the Dillons’ car isn't visible.”

“Yeah,” Sara huffed, while Barry stayed hidden on the second-floor landing to listen. “Totally out of sight in a little off-road spot in the woods. I only knew where to look because I saw Rosa’s heel prints outside the fence. No one else would ever notice.”

“Good. We’ll take care of that later.”

“Len—” she tried again.

“Not now.”

“He’s a _monster_ ,” Ray hissed. “You’re covering up murder for a monster!”

Barry shrank inward, understanding their concerns and accusations, because they were warranted.

“He only feeds from bad people,” Len defended. “Is it really that different than what we’ve always done?”

“We’ve never killed anyone,” Sara said.

“I’m the one who killed Sam Dillon. I caused the head wound and stabbed him before Barry ever touched him. Am I just a monster now too?”

“That’s different,” she bit out quietly.

“Why?”

“It was self-defense!”

“And it’s survival for Barry! What’s the difference if it’s _bad people_?”

Sara and Ray didn’t say anything at first, and Barry snuck closer to risk a glance over the banister. Len was almost finished ridding the foyer of any traces of what had happened, much easier to clean tile than carpeting like on that first night when Barry made Len clean the living room.

He'd been so angry and flustered and unsure of how to respond that night, half certain Len would turn on him again the second he had a chance.

Len had had plenty of chances, but he hadn’t betrayed Barry yet.

“You want to be with him,” Sara said finally, quietly again, like she hardly believed it. “To be _like_ him.”

“The first night I saw him,” Len said, “when I found out what he was, I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle all this. But I can. I have been. It doesn’t feel like a heavy price to pay when it means I’ll get to be with him.”

“But he bit you,” Ray said with a shudder.

“That was an accident.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Sara snapped. “God, you sound like a textbook battered spouse case—”

“That isn’t what this is,” Len raised his voice enough to echo up the high ceiling. “If I become like him, it won’t matter anymore.”

“What about us?” Ray asked.

“What about you? Nothing has to change.”

“If you become some creature of the night,” Sara sneered, “I think a few things are gonna change. _Shit_.”  She dropped her head back with a grumble. “Must be some pretty impressive sex.”

Len snorted. “It is, but that’s not why I want this. I love being with him. We look at the stars and tell stories and balance each other out in ways no one else ever has for me. He thinks I’m too young and that this is too new for me to know what I’m asking. I disagree. Have you ever known me to be certain about something and change my mind?”

“Yeah,” Sara threw back. “This fucking job.”

That made Len snicker again. “In the beginning, but now I’m glad, because this job led me to him.”

“Um…” Ray said suddenly, pointing warily upward— _at Barry_.

“Sorry!” He shrank inward again, before realizing how pointless that was now and moving to descend the stairs. “Bad habits.”

“It’s okay,” Len said, completely unruffled. “You didn’t hear anything I didn’t want you to.”

Barry felt that warmth fill him like nothing else ever had in all his many years with cold skin and an even colder heart. It was easy to give in to Len, and it would be just as easy now, but one of them had to be practical.

“I can’t commit to an answer yet about what you want from me, Len. I need time to think. I want us to be done with this burden I’ve put on you first.”

“Okay.” Len nodded. “That’s fair. But it’s _our_ burden, not just yours.”

“And I promise you,” Barry looked at the others, “I will stop at nothing to protect Len _and_ you. I didn’t mean to scare you before. I just… don’t trust easily. Len means a great deal to me. I do love him. Very much.”

Sara didn’t say anything, looking pensive.  

And Ray still looked terrified, but he said, “Cool. I-I mean…if you really wanted to kill us, you could have done so pretty easily by now, so… I guess I can believe you. Len doesn’t trust easily either.”

Stilted as that may have been, it meant so much hearing it from Len’s friends.

“Whatever,” Sara said with less attempt at friendliness. “But if I ever see any reason to think you’re more bad news than good for him, I don’t care how all-powerful or freaky you are. I’ll still kick your ass and make you regret it.”

“Understood,” Barry said with a nod, thinking there was something in Sara’s petite and fare form with her raging fierceness beneath the small, pretty package that reminded him of Hypatia.

“What now?” He returned to Len.

“Now, I change and clean up, and you make sure I didn’t miss any evidence. Then we tell Sara and Ray everything.”

So, they did. Ray was clearly heartbroken to hear more about Nora’s exploits, but he didn’t raise his voice to try denying it anymore.

“If she could lie to me that easily… Then yeah, I’ll help you guys. I’d already been researching Darhk after I got his name. Now, I know better what to look for.”

Ray had his laptop in a bag he’d been carrying over his shoulder so much like an extra limb that Barry hadn’t noticed. He set it up on the coffee table to begin his work, with Len helping by reciting everything he knew.

They’d decided to wait to handle the Dillons’ car until after it was dark, so all Barry could do was stand around, and Sara was much the same.

Until she passed Barry a swift once-over and said, “How about you give me a tour?”

“Uh-um…”

Len and Ray silently eyed them, putting Barry on the spot.

“Of course! It would be my pleasure.” He hastily gestured her back toward the foyer.

It really was just a tour at first. Barry showed her the kitchen and garage, led her upstairs to the sitting room and library, explaining the basement below, which she didn’t press to see, and finally ended at the bedroom and hallway leading to the widow’s walk.

“You mean the roof? I want to see.”

“Certainly.” Barry pulled down the ladder for her.

“You too.”

“Oh, I… don’t really go up there.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like heights, and while not everything you may have heard about vampires is true, the sun does bother me.”

“Badly or just makes you uncomfortable and a little weak?”

“The latter.”

 “Then you’re coming with me.” She shot him a challenging stare and started to climb.

Barry honestly didn’t know how to refuse her, so with a breath to steal himself, he squinted his eyes and grit his teeth against the surge of panic at being up there without the comforting presence of Len.

The sun was still beautiful to him, but it hurt to look at, even in his periphery, and the heat felt like the worst of summer in the dry desert.

Sara didn’t say anything initially, merely looked out at the view. She’d obviously been giving Barry—and everything that had been going on—a lot of thought.

“This is crazy,” she said at last, not looking at him. “You’re a vampire. A real fucking _vampire_ , who I saw gorging himself on Sam Dillon’s chest cavity. And you’re just as hopelessly in love with my best friend as he is with you.”

Now, she looked at him, a sideways slide of her eyes.

“I have no idea what the right answer is here, but if all this comes down to Len’s safety over his happiness, I’d rather see him live. So, you better think real carefully about what happens next.”

Here she was, with Barry in a vulnerable spot, once again threatening him, someone she couldn’t possibly defend against if he chose to attack, and she didn’t so much as stutter.

Barry had to admire that.

“I promise I will put Len’s best interests first. Always,” he said. “Len is lucky to have you.”

“I know.” She gave a light flip of her hair. “For a vicious killer, you’re not what I expected. I think I get why Len likes you.”

“Oh?”

“He was always a sucker for contradictions.”

 

XXXXX

 

Sara was full of contradictions—and there was no way in hell she only wanted a tour.

Len was trying to assist Ray, but his attention kept being pulled to his surroundings, looking to see if Barry and Sara had returned yet. She was probably giving him a shovel talk. She never gave _Nora_ a shovel talk.

But then, she hadn’t known either of them were killers until today.

Just when Len was going to excuse himself to look for them, they appeared, coming from upstairs and saying they were going to gather some snacks.

“For _us_ ,” Sara reiterated, and turned to Barry with a lightness she hadn’t displayed before. “No snacking on the humans. Got it?” She patted his shoulder, and he blushed faintly as he scurried to follow her to the kitchen.

Huh. Len couldn’t believe how much that eased his mind, despite the work ahead of them.

Well, mostly ahead of Ray, who was fixated on his laptop but quietly, which wasn’t usual at all. How else should he be acting, though, when he’d just seen what Len was pretty sure were his first dead bodies, a classic movie monster in 3D, and all while learning that his girlfriend was the bad guy.

“Ray?”

“Mm?” He kept clicking away, so Len scooted closer.

“I’m sorry about Nora.”

The clicking stopped, and Ray took a slow breath. “Me too. You’re dating a _vampire_ , and I’m dating a lying sociopath apparently. Good times.” He chuckled, but Len could see the strain in his shoulders. “I mean, I’m happy for you if you’re happy, even though this is really, really weird. But I’m more sad, because my killer love interest didn’t turn out to actually be a good guy.”

“I wish I could have told you.”

“I get why you didn’t. I probably would have thought you were nuts.” He opened his mouth to say more but held back a breath before he asked, “Did you really kill Sam Dillon?”

“Yeah.”

“And Allen… Barry… he killed the others?”

“Yes, except Baez, who Darhk or Nora killed. Sam was my first.”

“And you’re really okay with all this?”

That should have been a tougher question to answer, but when Len thought about it, he only had one thing to say. “They tried to shoot us. All these people we’ve killed have tried to hurt us first. And Barry only goes after the worst of the worst. I kind of can’t help being okay with it.”

Ray nodded, not like _he_ was okay with it, but like he could accept that answer. “He’s sort of like a vigilante, huh?” He leaned into Len’s side with a small smile, and then turned back to his computer.

“Oh, whoa,” he said after a few seconds.

“What?” Sara asked before Len could, returning with Barry from the kitchen.

“Nora is Darhk’s daughter.”

“ _What_?” Sara growled more fervently, but Len and Barry just looked at each other.

Iris and Eddie assumed Darhk had kids because of how he acted around the twins. It made sense.

He did have a kid. She was just an adult.

“The records got buried when she changed her name to Starling,” Ray said, “but the trail’s still there. She’s Nora _Darhk_. Her mother died when she was eight. The year it happened is when Darhk first started showing up with a record, then other aliases, and finally, whispers of Midnight.”

“He snapped when he lost his wife,” Len concluded.

“And raised his daughter to be a psycho,” Sara added harshly, plopping down beside Ray and digging into the provisions they’d brought. Then she paused. “Sorry.”

Ray shrugged.

“Maybe the mom was killed by a vampire,” Len said. “That would explain why they’re so obsessed.”

“I’ll keep digging.” Ray dove back into his work.

“What about when it’s time for you to see Darhk?” Sara asked. “Is that what the bodies are for, to prove to him you killed them?”

“If he presses, sure,” Len said, “but we need damning evidence to put him and Nora away. Those bodies might come in handy.”

“What if he just kills you as soon as you show up? Or plans a sting to finish framing you?”

“He’s not done with us yet. He wants information on other vampires so he can keep stealing from them.”

“Len,” Barry called softly, finally making him realize that while he and his friends had taken up the sofa, Barry stood off to the side.  

And Len did not like his expression.

“It may still come down to killing them. If that happens and all the evidence against me is too much, I’ll have to run. I’ve done it before.”

“What?” Len pushed up onto his feet. “Run? Without me?”

“I don’t want to, but I might have to.”

“You can’t. This could just as easily get pinned on me,” Len countered. “We don’t know what Darhk has planned if things go south. The only way to beat out potential evidence against us is by making sure the evidence against them is solid. You can’t kill them.”

“After everything they’ve done to you…” Barry bit out, his eyes flashing in anger.

“I know,” Len said, grabbing Barry by the back of the neck to pull him close and press their foreheads together, “but we can make this work. Darhk will still pay. Trust me, it’ll be worse sending a cop to prison.”

Barry laughed weakly but relaxed against him. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am. And you are _not_ running, even if the worst happens. Not without me. Promise me you won’t.”

He hesitated a few too many anxious heartbeats before he whispered, “I promise.”

“ _God_ , you two are unbearable,” Sara groaned, ruining the moment and causing Len to laugh. “Either get a room or get to work, because no one is ready to face Darhk yet.”

They weren’t, and the next few hours were filled with more of the same—research, eating when they thought of it, and trying to make sure they hadn’t missed anything important before they messaged Darhk to meet.   

As the day wore on, Len thought he’d asked Ray a thousand times for the same update.

“What about proof that Darhk is Bender?”

“I’m sorry, Len, I just don’t know. I can’t find anything. He couldn’t have done this for so long, especially transferring to different precincts, if he wasn’t good at covering his tracks. I don’t think I can find what you need in time.”

“It’s getting late,” Sara noted.

“And I just heard Eddie’s car,” Barry said from the patio doorway, having it open again to let in the cool air as the sun set. “He must be home. Darhk will be expecting us soon.”

“Eddie…” Len repeated, and then leapt to his feet in a rush as an idea struck him. “We have Eddie! I forgot about Eddie! We can use Eddie!”

“What are you talking about?” Barry frowned at his exuberance.

“You mean the cop?” Sara questioned.

“Yes! It’s a risk, but I think I have an idea.”

“What?” Ray pressed.

“I’m going to go confess.”

 

XXXXX

 

Barry could hardly believe they were actually at the West-Thawnes, and Len was _confessing_ to Eddie…

That he’d found Shawna Baez’s body in his hotel room.

He lied a little too, tweaking the timing for when Darhk was there, and saying that Darhk was the one who’d cleaned up the body afterward.

Then he admitted that Darhk was Bender and explained that he had been too afraid to come forward before, until Bender was in Barry’s house again that morning and threatened them when Eddie stepped outside.

It was mostly the truth, which Len confessed heartfeltly, and Barry could tell that while Eddie was skeptical, sitting with them in his living room, he wasn’t dismissive.

“I _knew_ Bender was bad news,” Iris said from the doorway.

She’d taken the kids upstairs to bed but had obviously snuck back down again.

“Sorry,” she said when Eddie shot her a sharp look, “reporter’s prerogative.”

He sighed like he wasn’t surprised, but it was clear he didn’t know how to handle the situation.

“I know this sounds crazy,” Len went on, “but I need very little from you to prove that Darhk is the one framing us.”

Since there was no hiding anything from Iris anymore, she came in and took one of the chairs, as Eddie paused to digest everything they’d told him.

“You’re saying that my partner has been framing you for murder for weeks, months almost, threatening you, all to get at Barry’s money? Yeah, it sounds crazy. But you have my attention. What do you need to prove your case?”

Len explained, and Barry was truly impressed by the final plan. If everything went well, they’d have Darhk for sure, Nora too, but Eddie had to agree to let them handle things on their own until they called him.

He did, gave Len what he asked for, promised he’d be ready for their call, and they went back to the house.

All Len had to do was send Darhk the message that the Dillons were dead, which Barry read over his shoulder.

_It’s done. We’re at the Dillons hideout in the warehouse district. You can come to us._

After all, Barry could get there in minutes with his speed.

_Fine, but no tricks._

_Wouldn’t dream of it._

“Sara, Ray,” Len said, “you stay here.”

“Um, no,” Sara protested. “We’re—”

“Staying here,” Len said more firmly. “I need you to take care of their car. You might not be used to dumping bodies, but we’ve all dumped cars before.”

That…was an interesting tidbit to learn, but Barry supposed carjacking was a fairly common act for a thief.

“We can join after,” Ray said, surprising Barry, since he didn’t seem the type to be up for a fight, but then he was more involved because of Nora.

“No,” Len affirmed. “There are too many unknowns. I’ll call you when it’s over. Barry and I will be fine.”

Barry wished he could be as certain. He didn’t worry for his own safety, but Len was still weak, still recovering from the blood loss last night, much as he tried not to show it. If anything went wrong…

“Ready?” Len turned to him.

Barry wanted this over with, so he could look at Len and thoughtfully decide what was best for their future without the weight of being surrounded by enemies.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m ready.”

 

XXXXX

 

Len wasn’t sure if _he_ was ready, but there was nothing left to do but enact the final stage of his plan.

Barry brought Len and the bodies to the warehouse well before Nora or Darhk arrived. There was no sign of anyone else, least of all the young man from before, and they didn’t try to hide the bodies since they’d already implied that the kills had happened there. They merely sprawled them out, made the place look like a fight had occurred with a few turned over chairs and clutter, and waited.

As Len predicted, Nora and Darhk arrived together.

“You took your time,” Len said, standing close beside Barry.

Nora was dressed simply compared to her father’s nice suit and trench coat, and while she always looked pretty and put together, there was an air of exasperation about her like she hadn’t gotten the best of sleep lately—just like the Dillons.

Being questioned for murder probably hadn’t sat well with her.

“We’re not idiots,” Darhk said, and as they drew closer, Len saw the resemblance now, mostly in the twists of their smiles. “We walked around the back first to make sure you didn’t have an ambush planned.”

“Couldn’t help but notice that dear sweet Ray and your other friend weren’t around their hotel today,” Nora said. “You can understand our concern.”

“They’re not here,” Len answered easily, since it was true. “It’s just us. Just you. And _them_.” He indicated the bodies.

“Nicely done.” Darhk acknowledge the act as if genuinely impressed. “Looks like a joint effort maybe? It finally really is just us, but I don’t want you trying anything stupid, so let’s make a little exchange before we continue.

“You come over here,” he motioned Len toward him, “and Nora will go by Mr. Allen. You know, just to keep things cordial and trusting.”

Len didn’t like that one bit, but it did seem fair if Nora was swapping with him. Barry didn’t like it either, given his knitted brow and wary glance, but Len nodded anyway.

“As long as we move at the same time,” he said.  

He gave a good-will gesture by stepping forward first, and Nora followed, each of them moving slowly but in time together until they crossed paths without incident and had finally switched positions.

“Good boy,” Darhk said. “You really can take direction, can’t you?”

Barry’s fists clenched in Len’s defense, but Len refrained from doing the same and crossed his arms instead.

“We know what you want. Why you killed all those people to frame Barry, everyone who worked on his house, Baez, and who knows who else.”

“Do you now?”

“Money. _More_ of it. You think Barry can give you names and addresses of others like him to be your next victims. That’s why you haven’t tried to kill us yet.”

The expression on Darhk’s face didn’t change, other than a slight raise of his brow and subtle nod. “Smart, makes sense, and up until _you_ , Mr. Snart, that would have been the right answer. But we’ve squirreled away plenty of funds from our past _victims_. We don’t need any more names or addresses. Now, it’s time to end this.”

 _End it?_ “Then what do you want?”

“Well…” Darhk coaxed him closer, even though they were already only a foot apart.

Len didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of moving, so all he did was lean in.

And then flinched when a _bang_ echoed all around the warehouse and the worst pain he’d ever felt began to spread throughout his stomach.

He gasped, barely able to believe it as he looked down below his crossed arms to see the blood beginning to pool, and then looked up at Darhk and saw the gun he’d had hidden in his trench coat.

“Len!” Barry roared, but Darhk had already stepped forward and brought the gun less than an inch from Len’s temple, keeping it there even as Len staggered to his knees.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Darhk said to Barry. “At this range, a bullet to the head is faster than _you_. Trust me. Had to catch you by surprise, I’m afraid, but this is necessary to make sure you’re agreeable.

“See, I thought framing you would be enough, but this is better incentive, because you’re all soft on Lenny here, so I know you’ll want to save him. Don’t worry, stomach shots take a long time to kill someone. He’ll survive if you cooperate quick enough.”

“What do you _want_?” Barry demanded, a wild force of fury, but the pain was so awful for Len, he could hardly focus on him.

Darhk’s voice came dimly but still audible as he said, “You’re going to turn me and my daughter into one of you.”

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go. ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the craziest, busiest week, but I managed to get this finished. Huzzah!
> 
> Thank you all so much for supporting this fic. I'm excited to move onto new projects but really pleased with how this turned out and your continued kind comments mean more than I can say.

Maybe, if Barry hadn’t fed from Len the night before, the sudden blood loss from the bullet wound wouldn’t so immediately have him seeing stars. He’d eaten, had almost 24 hours to recover, but it wasn’t enough, not when he was going from one life-threatening event to another.

He had to stay conscious. No matter what happened, he couldn’t let himself sleep.

Or he might not wake up.

“You’re _insane_ ,” Barry growled across the space separating them, his face changed so that his eyes glowed bright and fierce, while his fangs glinted off the meager light of the warehouse.

Nora, even so close to Barry in that state, didn’t look concerned.

And neither did Darhk.

“I'm not denying that,” he said with a grin, the gun still aimed barely an inch from Len’s temple, “but be that as it may, you’re going to obey my request, or Lenny here is going to die. Tick, _tock_.” He thumbed the trigger.

“There isn’t time!” Barry lamented, so primed to move, he practically vibrated.

Len kept his left hand on his bleeding wound but was quick to press the right to his chest before sliding it down to join the other.

“I've never sired anyone. I could kill your daughter on accident.”

“Then you better be especially careful, because if I worry for her safety for even a second…” Darhk tapped the side of Len’s head with his gun.

Len swayed. He needed to lie down. He wanted to so badly. The room was spinning, and he was so nauseous, and it hurt so badly, but he kept up on his knees. The only anchor he found was Barry, who looked twice as far away.

Len had to get Darhk down on his level. They could still do this.

“Turn her. _Now_.”

“D-don’t…” Len croaked, clutching forward at Darhk’s pant leg and pulling on his trench coat weakly.

Darhk kicked him away, and Len sprawled out on the floor despite himself, but Darhk stayed with him to never leave enough space between him and the gun for Barry to act. That meant that as he leaned over Len, his trench coat swayed beside him.

“Don't,” Len said again, clutching and pulling at Darhk but eventually crumpling back. “Don't listen to him, Barry… please.”

“He’ll listen,” Darhk said ominously, “unless he wants to watch you die.”

No. They just needed to call Eddie.

“I…” Barry was going to cave. It was clear in his voice, even though his face remained fierce, that Darhk was right; Barry could better be manipulated by using Len than any plot to frame him. “I’ll try. But please, at least help Len stop the bleeding.”

“No…” Len pressed both hands more tightly to his stomach, but the rush of pain just made his vision blacken with fireworks. They didn’t need to give in. There was no coming back from that if they did. They had no guarantees Darhk would bow out once it was over, and if he and Nora were vampires too, they’d never be able to bring them to justice.

“I’ll help once you’ve finished with Nora. Not before,” Darhk said.

 _No_. Barry couldn’t give these bastards immortality! Not them.

But dimly from where he lay on his back, Len could see Barry drop his aggressive stance and turn toward Nora. She started to remove her jacket and tilted her head to let her hair fall to the side.

“St-stop…” Len tried one last time, seeing the haze of Barry lean closer to her neck…

“Wow, am I glad you said, ‘get rid of the car’ and not the guns.”

Len swung his attention toward _Sara_ at the entrance, more recognizing her voice than able to see her, but he was certain that the taller blob beside her was Ray, and they both had their arms raised, aiming what must have been Sam and Rosa’s guns.

 

XXXXX

 

Sara and Ray were there, aiming Sam and Rosa’s guns at the Darhks'—Sara at Nora, and Ray at her father.

“ _Len_!” Ray cried, taking in the entirety of the scene.

Because Len wasn’t simply down, he was shot, and already weak as he was bleeding out onto the floor.

Barry made to lunge at Nora, but Darhk yelled a warning, “Stop!”

In the instant that Barry hesitated, afraid of Darhk’s finger on the trigger with the muzzle so close to Len’s head, Nora pulled a gun of her own and aimed it back at Sara. It was the worst kind of standoff with Barry utterly neutered to offer them aid.

“Where did _you_ come from?” Nora spat. “Hiding somewhere we couldn’t see?”

“Just arrived,” Sara said, not even passing Len an anxious glance, so she could stay focused on Nora. “Might have speeded a little to get here.”

“You didn’t dump the Dillons’ car?” Len sputtered.

“We did. Then we borrowed Barry’s. _Now_ ,” Sara stalked forward without a single tremor in her arm, “I think we’ve got you outnumbered. So, drop the guns.”

“You’d have to get off some pretty lucky shots,” Darhk said, remaining too close to Len for Barry to make any move against him, “and Raymond there doesn’t look that steady.

“ _You_ drop the guns, and we'll continue where we left off.”

“Nora,” Ray kept his aim on Darhk, but had eyes only for her, “please. You think you need to do this because he's your dad, but you don't. It’s not worth all this. Didn’t what we shared mean anything to you?”

Barry couldn't see Nora’s expression with her faced away from him, but he doubted it held more than scorn and pity.

“You’re sweet, Ray,” she said, maybe even sincere about that much, “but you're not worth more than living forever.”

“Your w-wife…” Len gasped from the floor, speaking over Ray's heartbroken silence. He looked so pale now, eyes heavy-lidded, and the hands on his stomach barely able to stem the bleeding. “She's wh-why… isn't she? Because of a... vampire?”

“No.” Darhk gave a derisive chuckle. “It wasn't _how_ she died, just that she did. I spent the next twenty years looking for an out for me and my daughter. I made sure we had everything we could possibly need to never have to answer to anyone again. Now, it's time for the finale.”

“Nora.” Ray kept ignoring Darhk. “ _Please_.”

“Enough,” Darhk barked, looking once more to Barry. “Turn her. Now.”

“You won't shoot,” Sara said with more confidence than Barry felt. “Len's your only bargaining chip.”

“Are you sure? Because I guarantee you, if you give me no other choice, I am going to end this by making you all suffer, starting with him.” Darhk pressed the muzzle to Len’s forehead, who couldn’t even hold his head up anymore. “Shoot Palmer so they know we're serious.”

Nora startled at the order. Barry saw it in the tension that gripped her shoulders, but still, she shifted her aim to Ray, and hopeless fool that he was, he lowered his gun entirely.

“I love you,” he told her, fully aware that she was the enemy, but unwilling to give her up.

To his credit, she _almost_ dropped her arm.

“That's a shame,” she said.

And fired.

Barry flinched at the bang. He never flinched, but he also never stood idly by. He didn’t dare move to anyone’s aid, though, not when Darhk held Len hostage.

Sara wasn’t as toothless. A toss of her gun and mad dash forward caught Nora by the wrist in time to thwart her aim from Ray’s chest to his shoulder. Ray grunted at the impact and staggered back, but he’d live.

Watching the ensuing struggle between equally diminutive but powerful women, Barry cast a wary glance at Darhk, who stood tall and at the ready but kept his aim on Len.

Every inch one of the women gave up, they soon reclaimed, back and forth, and back and forth again, but in the end, one had to prove stronger.

Sara wrapped her hand around Nora’s to turn the hold of the gun in her favor, controlling the aim and pointing it back at Nora’s head. “Now!” she cried again, tugging her counterpart in close and holding firm. “I’m going to count to three, because I’m guessing you care more about your daughter than killing Len. Although you did just tell her to shoot her boyfriend,” she snarled.

She spared a peek at Ray to be sure his wound was superficial—it was; despite Ray’s grimace—and then carried through with her threat.

“One. _Two_ —”

“Stop!” Darhk bellowed, making an unthinking lurch forward.

Which was all the opening Barry needed.

He bolted forward with his inhuman speed, and everything around him slowed. He saw the moment when Darhk realized the folly of his mistake, trying to whip the gun back on Len, but Barry was faster and seized Darhk's arm to move it safely away just as it went off, missing Len to strike the floor.

The most satisfying rush of blood hit Barry's tongue when he sank his fangs into Darhk's neck.

“D-don’t!” Len cried from the floor so close to him. “You c-can't… kill him. Barry, p-please. We got him… we got what we need. Call _Eddie_.”

Darhk was a useless doll in Barry’s arms, held securely with no chance at escape. Barry wanted to drain him. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted Darhk to suffer like he'd tried to make them suffer.

Looking back at the others, he saw that Sara had thrown Nora to the ground, keeping the gun on her, while Ray shuffled over, holding his shot shoulder, and Nora stared on in dread at Barry drinking from her father.

“Please,” Len said again, so pale, so weak, but still thinking of the plan. “Call Eddie. Then... y-you can... stay with me. _Please_ …”

Barry tore his fangs from Darhk throat, making sure to break the skin that much more to hide the punctures. He tossed Darhk aside, kicking the fallen gun out of reach, and dropped down beside Len.

“Get your gun on him now,” Barry ordered Ray, who instantly if clumsily obeyed, “and call the detective.” He tossed his phone at Sara, figuring she’d be more likely to catch it, and she did. Then he gathered Len against him to assess the damage.

Len's shirt and hands were covered in blood, and so much had soaked into the floor.

The smell of it made Barry dizzy.

“You're gonna… s-save me, right?” Len stammered up at him. His skin felt clammy and cold.  

“Of course.” Barry started to lift him.

“Y-you'll turn me…? You'll save me?”

“Len…”

“You _have_ to. It’s the only… w-way. Please…”  

After everything they’d been through, Barry had never seen Len look so scared.

“…don't let me die.”

“I won't,” Barry said, stroking Len’s face as he held him closer. “No matter what. I promise.”

Len gave a crooked, weak smile, his eyes unseeing now, as they slowly began to close.

 

XXXXX

 

The last thing Len remembered was his eyes closing.

He figured he'd wake up and everything would feel better. There'd be no pain. He'd feel whole and strong as a vampire, and he and Barry could be together always.

But when he finally opened his eyes again, everything hurt.

It was too bright. He thought maybe because the sun was glaring at him now that he was changed, but when he looked around and his surroundings began to take shape, he wasn't outside. He wasn't in the warehouse. He wasn't back at Barry's.

He was in a hospital room.

“Mr. Len!”

Only then did Len notice the others with him. The twins with Iris and Eddie, Sara, Ray with his shoulder bandaged, and— _there_ —Barry, standing apart from the others in the corner.

The twins tried to rush Len’s bed, but Iris held them back.

“Remember what we said,” she scolded. “The nurse only allowed you two in here if you promised to be gentle with Len. Just say hi. No pouncing.”

This was clearly a foreign concept to them, but they listened, walking up more slowly to Len’s bedside.

“We’re glad you’re awake, Mr. Len,” Dawn said.

“Does it hurt lots?” Joey asked.

Len was still coming to full consciousness, and he could tell from the IV attached to him that it probably hurt a lot more than he was feeling, so he said, “It does… but I’m pretty tough. I’ll be okay. Right?” He looked at the others, Barry last, who was still holding back, like he thought Len would be angry with him.

He was surprised, truly amazed that he’d survived without the supernatural help he expected, but it was hard to be angry.

“You’re going to be fine. The nurse could tell you were going to wake up soon,” Eddie said, “so she let the kids come in, but we’ll get them out of your hair. We just wanted to be here after you woke up from surgery.”

Surgery? No wonder everything hurt.

“You’re a hero, Len. You and Barry went way above and beyond as civilians to bring Bender in—I mean, _Darhk_. I can’t believe we almost lost you over that psycho.”

“You got everything you needed?” Len asked.

“Oh yeah. You started the recording on that wire I gave you at the perfect time. We got Darhk’s whole confession. Though it cut out after he shot you, the last thing he said seeming really weird. Something about…Barry making him and his daughter ‘like him’. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”

Even shot and in so much pain, Len had been sure to press against the wire to turn it off before any actual talk of vampires could be recorded. “No idea. He was definitely off his rocker.”

“No denying that,” Eddie said. “When I got to the warehouse with backup, Barry had already left with you to get to the hospital. Darhk tried to spin things against you and your friends, but Barry had left the recording for me. And besides, once we patted Darhk down, we found a knife in his trench coat that was clearly the murder weapon used on Sam Dillon, and maybe also his wife.

“He tried denying it was his, but he basically fell apart from there. Once he realized we had his confession on tape, he owned up to the rest. His daughter too.

“You did our job for us.” Eddie gently patted Len’s shoulder. “Ever think of changing careers?”

Len would have laughed if he wasn’t so sore. “I’m happy where I am, thanks.”

It was daylight outside, he saw through a slit in the curtains. Len had no idea how long he’d been asleep recovering from surgery, but definitely all through the night.

“We’ll give you some breathing room and let you have time with your friends,” Iris said, coming forward to kiss Len’s forehead, very motherly and appreciated, before she started ushering the kids outside. “We’re glad you’re okay, Len.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Len!” the kids chorused.

Eddie followed with an added, “I’ll have to get your official statement eventually, but don’t worry about anything. The Darhks can’t hurt you anymore.”

To think, only a few weeks ago, Len had been worried about the Dillons.

Sara and Ray still wore the same clothes from last night and didn’t look like they’d gotten any sleep.

“The bodies were already there, and the wire was a really smart plan,” Sara recounted, coming in close so she could perch on the side of the bed, while Ray did the same on the other, “but how did you plant the knife on Darhk? You were dying!”

Len thought back to just after he’d been shot when he got close enough to Darhk to slip the knife into his pocket with some classic misdirection. “Magic,” he said with a twirl of his fingers.

 Sara and Ray chuckled.

“Shouldn’t you be laid up too?” Len asked, nodding at Ray’s shoulder.  

“I’m not straining anything sitting here watching over you.” Ray shrugged, and then hissed at the unconscious action. “Anyway… I've been working on my laptop to get all those funds transferred back to Barry finally. No hiccups. The cops won't be able to trace a thing. I've mostly been resting, though, I swear. Plus, they gave me some really good pain killers.”

Len’s entire middle ached, along with a few various bruises around his body, and a general throbbing in his head. Glancing at Barry, still so removed and distant, sitting in the corner, didn’t make any of it feel better. “I might need an increase myself,” he said, holding eye contact.

“We’ll tell the nurse,” Sara took the hint, contrary to Ray’s pout at being dismissed. “She’ll want to check you over but said we could have a few minutes once you woke up. Why don’t you two talk?” She cast Barry a gauging—and possibly threatening—look. “We’ll get her.”

“You’re both okay though?” Len asked as they rose from the bed.

“We’re not the ones who had surgery,” Ray reminded him.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in this, but I’m glad you showed up when you did and didn’t listen to me.”

“Please,” Sara lightly punched his shoulder, “you can always count on us to ignore you when you’re trying to order us around.”

Len huffed a faint laugh, but his eyes went to Ray and his weary, although brave, expression. “I am really sorry about Nora.”

“I'd hoped she might change her mind, but I’m glad, with her in jail now, that I don’t have any doubts about where we stood. I still got you guys. And I’ll always be grateful for that.” Ray turned to look at Barry as he said it, but the answering smile Barry offered held far too much sorrow and guilt.

They left then like the West-Thawnes, leaving nothing between Len and Barry but space.

Len wished he wasn’t so tired. He could probably sleep for a week, but there were more important things to worry about, even if he had nearly found his way to the river Styx all on his own.

“I thought you were going to...” Len couldn’t finish the thought. He’d truly believed he’d wake up like Barry, that circumstance had made his argument for him, and that Barry had been left with no choice. 

“I know,” Barry said quietly, not approaching, even with the others gone, “but I couldn’t. After all this, I… I need to move on, find another city.”

“What?” Len’s gut clenched from more than any bullet wound. “But we won. Everything's okay now.”

“Too much attention has been brought on me—”

“We have a cop on our side. Eddie loves you. You heard him. We’re heroes!”

“Your friends were the heroes. You’re a hero. And you were nearly a martyr.”

“I love you,” Len said stubbornly, feeling as foolish as it had sounded when Ray said it to Nora, but that didn’t change how he felt.

Barry looked away from him.

“If you need a new city, what about Coast City with me and my friends? That was always the plan.”

“Len—”

“Please.” Len could feel tears rising with the flood of bile in his throat. “You can’t leave. We never even had our date.”

That dropped Barry’s guard enough for a smile to crack on his face.

“I can give you a preview,” Len coaxed him, trying not to sound too desperate. “It wasn’t going to be just some rehash of the date that never happened. Let me tell you about it.”

Barry hesitated, but with slow steps, he finally began to move toward the bed.

“I was going to take you to some of my favorite spots in the city and appeal to your inner geek.”

Barry’s smile cracked wider.

“There’s this great comic and game shop downtown. I’d let you have _one_ —but only one. I’m still responsible for your finances.”

A chuckle escaped Barry. He sat too near the end of the bed, but at least he sat.

“There’s a club nearby with great views of the city. They have nothing but cover bands playing 70s rock, like the best playlist on one of your tricked-out radios. You could bring your camera and take photos outside and in, even some of me. _Especially_ of me, as many as you’d want.

“We’d go back to the house after, and you could take more photos, any way you want me, as naughty as you would never be able to ask for without stuttering.”

Barry blushed, but chuckled again, and when Len held out his hand, Barry timidly reached to take it.

“Then we’d go to the roof, where I’d already have the telescope set up, and this time, I’d try to point out our constellations to you, and when I failed miserably, you’d laugh and tell me how wrong I was.”

Barry’s smile was so beautiful, but sad, like his mind wasn’t being changed, and he’d get up any minute and vanish, as soon as Len stopped talking.

So, he didn’t stop.

“We’d fool around and make love, and you wouldn’t hurt me.” Len squeezed Barry’s hand tightly, with all his meager strength. “It would just be wonderful and beautiful and ours.”

“Len—”

“I promise—”

“That sounds lovely. Truly, it does. I wish we could have done it.”

“We _will_ ,” Len insisted. “The story doesn’t end here.”

Looking at Len so heartfeltly and sorrowful, Barry pulled his hand away.

“It’s written in the stars,” Len rushed on, grasping for anything he could to keep Barry there. “It was written in the Heavens, the other gods would say, whenever someone asked about Hades and Persephone and all the ages they’d spent together.”

Barry looked up with a start.

“‘How did they make it work?’ mortals would ask. ‘They’re both death,’ some would say. ‘They’re forces of nature.’ A few still thought one had tricked the other and that they had nothing in common but lies.

“But love is never founded on force or death or the tallying of similarities. It’s in the way each person listens and lets the other be exactly who they are. The rest comes slowly, beyond attraction or lust, and grows with each new miracle they learn about each other and accept with the same open arms that first welcomed them, even if the shroud behind those arms seems frightening.

“The real answers could only come from Hades and Persephone themselves, because Hades worried sometimes that the whispers were right, that they were too dissimilar, and that Persephone had only stayed out of obligation. So, one day he asked if she’d ever regretted her decision to become his queen.

“And she said, 'No. Not a single moment, even those spent in darkness. Because they were with you’.”

Barry’s eyes had grown damp, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “I still think you’re Hades.”

Len laughed. “Me too. But the metaphor worked better the other way.”

There was Barry’s smile again, almost bright enough to overcome its sorrows, but not enough. “We can’t do this forever, Len.”

“We could though. _Forever_.”

“What if you don’t really want that?”

“Don’t I get to decide what I want?”

“Not right now.” Barry sighed again and slid from the bed. “You need rest. But I won’t leave yet. I promise.”

 _Yet_ —the best and worst word at once.  

Len was terrified when Barry excused himself from the room that he'd never return, but he did. He was there every day that Len was in the hospital.

He’d arrive as soon as he could when visiting hours began and stayed until they gently reminded him that it was time to leave. He returned sometimes at night too, sneaking in, staying in the shadows when the nurses checked on Len, but he never stayed late, since he said Len needed rest.

Len did. He’d survived major blood loss, followed by _more_ major blood loss and a gut wound.

The others were there nearly as often—Sara, Ray, the West-Thawnes, with and without the twins. Len appreciated all of them, but it was Barry’s presence that relaxed him and kept him calm.

He’d bring Len books and comics, read to him from them, read from the newspaper as well, especially where it concerned what was going on with the Darhks—the serial killers of Central City. Barry didn’t need to eat or rest, so he never needed to step away, and even though sometimes Len would dose or drift off while Barry was with him, he was always there when Len awoke.

Len spent three weeks, almost a month recovering from surgery. He was lucky to not have any lasting damage to vital organs, but he’d still have to use a cane for a while and would need to take things very slowly.

The day of his release, he told Sara and Ray—and the West-Thawnes—that he just wanted Barry there to bring him home. _Home_ , which he didn’t need to explain, because they all knew what he meant.

It was daylight, of course, when he started to check out, but still, he expected Barry to be there.

So, when Barry didn't show up, he started to panic.

He called Barry, but there was no answer. He waited half an hour past the time he’d said he was being released, but still, Barry didn’t show. He almost called the others to check on Barry, but that felt too much like defeat, made it all feel too real that Barry might have…

Len couldn’t face the thought, so he called a Lyft and had it bring him to Barry’s house.

He didn’t bother knocking on the paneling of the wrought-iron doors or trying to peer through the glass. It was always dark inside and impossible to see anyway, so he pushed through the door, knowing it wouldn’t be locked, and the stillness of the entryway struck him like a blow.

Because it was empty.

“No…” Len dropped his cane as he shuffled inside and whirled around.

There were no tables or radios in the foyer, just the chandelier glittering down from above—on _nothing_ but the square-shaped sections on the floor where there was no dust because something had been there once, but it was gone now. _Gone_.

“No!” Len let his voice ricochet up to the ceiling. “Barry! _Barry!!_ ”

“Why are you yelling?”

Len spun to face the stairs—where _Barry_ was descending from the second floor.

“Did I lose track of time? Oh goodness, what did I do with my phone? Am I late?”

“You… son of a bitch…” Len’s breath hitched, throwing himself forward at Barry the second he reached the foyer. “I thought you _left_.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” Barry held him tightly.

“Everything’s gone!”

“No, it isn’t. I was cleaning. See?” Barry kept one arm around Len, as he led him to the living room, proving that the missing tables and radios were right there inside the archway. “I was just looking for the mop.”

“The mop’s in the kitchen,” Len deadpanned.

“Is it?”

“You were… cleaning?”

“Well,” Barry said with a sunny, unfair smile, “I haven't had you here to help me.”

 

XXXXX

 

“I haven't had you here to help me,” Barry said, pulling Len back toward him, but before he could gather him in his arms again, Len pushed him away and smacked him in the chest.

“I thought you were gone!” he bellowed, striking him again and again, “I thought you were gone…” and then buried himself in Barry’s chest.

People could be so confusing, but this was entirely Barry’s fault for neglecting the time. He’d just wanted the house to be nice for Len, and the foyer had been last on his list.

“Not without you,” he said, petting Len’s head and squeezing him close. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m still hopeless without you around to take care of me and keep track of my schedule.”

“Then you’re staying?” Len sniffled.

“I’ve had weeks to think about this, about us, and I finally decided.” Barry nudged Len to pull away from him enough so they could look each other in the eyes. “I’m staying. But I won’t turn you. Not right away. I still think you deserve more time as a human to be sure I’m what you want. Then, when enough time has passed, if your mind hasn’t changed, we’ll see.”

“I am never going to change my mind.” Len wrapped his arms around Barry possessively.

“I hope not,” Barry brushed his knuckles down Len’s cheek, “but I want you to be sure. I’ve been alive a long time, and while I’ve never felt this way about anyone, it’s unfair to let you make such a big decision when you’ve barely lived. When the time is right, if you still want me forever, then that’s what I’ll give you.”

As Barry started to lean in, Len surged forward to meet him, ravenously igniting their first kiss since Len had been admitted to the hospital. They’d stolen a few small, chaste kisses in greeting and goodbye, but that could never compare to _this_. 

To Len’s lips and tongue and hands clinging.

Barry wrapped him up in his arms tighter and kissed him that much deeper, their bodies molding together flush. Eventually, when they paused for Len to catch his breath, at last Barry could see that Len’s panic and the threat of tears in his eyes had been banished.

“We could still go to Coast City someday,” Len said.

“Whatever you want. Wherever you want. But no matter where we go… I will always need to feed.”

“I know. The Dillons weren't the only scum in this city. A little vigilante justice could be fun.”

“I still want us to be careful,” Barry said, and he didn’t only mean with his hunting habits.

“Very careful.” Len paused in thought but only loosened his hold on Barry slightly. “Who did you feed from while I was in the hospital?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“We’re partners now. We’re in this together. I need to know.”

Barry carefully extracted himself from Len’s fervent clinging so he could retrieve the cane from where it had clattered by the door. He led Len to the sofa in the living room and sat with him, leaning the cane against the coffee table.

“Before visiting hours a few times,” he said, “I went to see that lawyer about my sire’s estate.”

“You killed the _lawyer_?”

“No.” Barry wrinkled his nose at the idea. “Lawyer or no, he seemed like a nice enough man. But there were a few unsavory characters sniffing around what remained of my sire’s belongings. He had some enemies of his own, it seems. Nothing like Darhk. I’ve just been... helping clean up.”

“Did he leave you anything interesting?”

“A few nostalgic odds and ends. Actually, there’s something I’d like you to have,” Barry said, rising to retrieve it from the nearby chest with his favorite comic books.

This was something different though. He’d only tucked it into the chest so he could present it as a gift without Len finding it first.

“Do you know much Norse mythology?” He handed Len the tome, quite ancient and beautifully illustrated.

For a moment, Len simply stared at it, and then carefully opened it to page through a few stories. It wasn’t in English, but he didn’t seem to mind. He ran a hand over a few of the drawings, eventually closing the book and setting it on the coffee table.

“I can read it to you,” Barry said, afraid Len didn’t like it after all. “I know the language and—”

Len flew forward to tackle Barry against the cushions, knocking him back and nearly climbing on top of him. He hissed a little, since he was in no shape to be so reckless, but simply continued kissing Barry and better situating himself to get his hands on him.

“D-does that mean you like it?” Barry sputtered a laugh amidst the assault.

“I love it,” Len said. “I love _you_. I was so terrified you’d run away and left me without saying goodbye.”

“I am so sorry for that. I promise I’ll never be late for something so important again.”

“You better not be,” Len chided, but he was smiling, and he kissed Barry lightly on the lips again. “Will I ever get to meet any of your immortal friends?”

“I’m sure it’ll happen someday,” whether Barry wanted it to or not, “but they’re not all like me. I’m going to be very protective of you.”

“Be protective, as much as you want. But first, right now… make love to me,” Len said, hand already tugging at Barry’s tucked in shirt to pull it free. “It’s been agony missing you all these weeks.”

“M-missing me?” Barry trembled at the implications—and Len’s hand sliding up his stomach. “I saw you every day!”

“Seeing and experiencing are not the same thing.”

“Len, you know how I feel about—”

“We’ll be careful. I had another thought about that actually.”

Barry sighed in frustration. He appreciated Len’s active libido—his had certainly never diminished over the centuries, even if he didn’t always get an outlet—but the last time they were intimate…

“I think it’s just a matter of switching things up,” Len said.

“…switching?”

 

XXXXX

 

 _Switching_ afforded Len a lovely view, because Barry had a marvelous backside, and right now it was presented before him as a gorgeous curve, while Barry had his face pressed to the mattress, hips lifted, and legs spread for Len’s enjoyment.

Len took his time running his hands over Barry’s ass, before he reached for the lube.

“I-I would have been okay if… i-if this was what you preferred from the beginning,” Barry said with a raggedness to his voice, though Len had barely touched him.

“Not preferred. I like both positions. Do you?” Len whispered with a sultry lilt, teasing Barry with his first wet digit and a slow curl inside.

“Yes.” Barry shuddered. “It had just been so long for me, I… I-I didn’t know if you’d…w-want…” He moaned as Len twisted deeper inside him.

“What I want is you. There are no more enemies. We have all the time in the world to explore new ideas and… positions.”

“Y-you’re sure it’s… not too much strain for you?”

“I’ll manage.”

Len had wanted to stand with Barry poised on the end of the bed, but he wasn’t sure he could hold that position, up on his feet for so long. It was hard enough being slow and careful when he used so many stomach muscles for this, but he’d promised he’d let Barry know if he needed a break.

It just meant he’d have to be extra slow once they got going.

“Y-You really think this will work?” Barry squirmed at his attentions, once Len began to stretch him.

“It’s harder for you to bite me in this position.”

“B-but if I somehow still hurt you again…”

“You won’t.” Len added another finger, not surprised that Barry opened up easily, since he was so resilient. His cool skin was always marvelous to touch.

“You always say that—”

“You _won’t_. Believe it. Believe in your control, Barry. I do.” Len leaned forward to slide his free hand up Barry's back and around to his mouth, seeking his lips to have him suck on his fingers even though he could already feel fangs.

Barry was careful with the twirl of his tongue and light scrape of teeth. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, kissing Len's palm finally in promise.

Len pulled his hand free to press to Barry’s lower back, bracing himself as he thrust his fingers deeper and faster inside Barry.

“L-Len…” Barry’s answering moan was broken with pleasure.

Almost three now; Len was certain Barry could take it, but still he went slowly, letting the third digit scissor in with the others at a gradual pace.

“I-I’d… forgotten what this felt like,” Barry keened and flailed back to grip the wrist of the hand Len had working inside him. “ _Please_ , Len. Fuck me now. I need it. Give me your cock.”

Len was blindsided every time Barry talked filthy like that. It fit too perfectly the husk of his aroused voice. “As slow and sweet as you fucked me.”

Though that had turned out pretty rough, and Len wasn't sure if he could manage _that_ the other way around, but he'd try his best.

After using the lube to coat himself, he gave a gentle press of his head, just a light nudge to let Barry know he was there, and then began to push in.

A growl rumbled up from Barry and his hands clawed at the sheets. Len marveled like so many times before at how he could reduce this powerful being to whimpers and a loss of control so profound that there was an honest risk to his life.

But no, _no_ , he didn’t believe for a second that Barry would ever go too far. Barry just needed to trust in himself the way Len trusted him.

“You’re so good to me, Barry. So good… And I will always be good to you.”

Len pressed inside to the hilt with a pleased sigh, wrapping one arm around Barry’s waist, while the other held his shoulder. Every tightening of his stomach muscles made his healing wound ache, but the pace he began was perfect, slow and sweet like he’d promised, until there was no pain at all.

Barry’s whimpers rose louder than any growls, and he arched back to meet Len’s thrusts without trying to go faster. Deeper, yes—so deep—but never once did he hurry their pace. He panted and tore at the sheets, and there were a few times when Len wondered if he might roar and spin around after all, ending this like the last time had ended, but it never happened. Barry would moan and rock back with hard slams, but he always, _always_ came back to himself when it seemed he might get lost.

“Are you with me, Barry?” Len husked, hastening his pace as much as he was able. “Is it good?”

“Mrrrmm… yesss... but slower, Len…slow…” he murmured. “I like it when you fuck me slow.”

Len laughed in near delirious delight, slowing his hips again. He could make this last for as long as possible. He’d known it would only take repetition and a few varied positions for Barry to hold the beast at bay. Even at his most terrifying, Barry was always worth trusting, because Len knew from experience that nothing was as simple as it seemed.

 

XXXXX

 

Nothing was as it seemed.

Not Barry.

Not Len.

Not anything about the two of them together.

Except _this_. Except making love in Barry’s bed—that was as it should be, because Barry didn’t fear anymore that he’d lose himself to his baser instincts.  

It wasn’t the position—though that helped to focus him on something other than the pulse of Len’s blood and how delicious it would taste—but back to simply breaking his conditioned response. Like this, he couldn’t bite Len, and it made him believe that maybe, the more they ‘practiced’ in any position, the more he’d be able to give himself over to Len fully without fearing he'd harm Len in return.

The slow slide was so good. Maybe that was part of it, too, letting Len slow him down, when with other vampires, they’d give into their powers, their supernatural strength and speed, and break the bed. That sort of animal aggression wasn’t always better. With Len, Barry could rediscover the tender side of lovemaking and the sweet torture of drawing out every moment.

“Still want me to go slow?” Len teased, pulling back at an agonizing pace.

“Y-yes, but… a little faster…please…?”

“Maybe I should return the favor too.”

“What—” Barry cut off with a gasp that dropped into a low moan as Len bit him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Nothing fierce, not enough to break the skin, but that faint sharpness sent a shiver through Barry’s body that melted him into the mattress.

Each new thrust of Len’s that pressed deeper, slid inside him a little faster, made a heat build deep within him that almost— _almost_ —made him wish he had something to bite.

Barry shoved some of the sheets into his mouth to be safe and let himself tear into them.

“I’m there…right there…” Len panted.

Barry was too, and Len knew it, reaching around to grasp him firm and stroke, and Barry was done, beating Len by several sweet seconds with an all over shudder that he swore made him blur in pleasure.

He spat the sheets from his mouth and could barely imagine moving. It was Len, slipping away smoothly and returning to wipe Barry clean, who eventually rolled him over to lay out on the bed. Barry knew he still wore his vampire face, glowing eyes and fangs and all, but Len looked at him adoringly anyway.

“Hang on, my phone keeps buzzing.” Len offered a short peck to Barry’s lips before disappearing off the side of the bed to dig through their clothes.

“Everything all right?” Barry asked.

“Sara and Ray just wanted to know you picked me up okay.”

“Please don’t tell them how much I failed.”

Len sat, grinning at his screen. He was breathtaking to look at, not at all lessened by bandages or scars. “And risk Sara’s reaction? No worries there. I’ll tell them we’ll be out of bed in a week or so, and then they can come over.”

Barry snickered.

“Except I also have a note from the West-Thawnes, wondering if we want to come over for dinner tonight to celebrate my return.”

“Urg. You know the problem with having friends? I have to share you.”

Len laughed.

“But the amazing thing is…” Barry reached out, just the faint raise of his hand, and Len tossed his phone aside to grasp it and climbed back onto the bed. “I like that too. Even though it worries me.”

“Worries you?”

Pausing to pull Len close, Barry kissed the side of his head. In a thousand years, he’d never held something so precious to him. “If you want it, someday I’ll turn you. But we can’t turn everyone in our lives.”

“I know,” Len said softly. “You’re worried about how hard it will be when we have to leave them, or when they leave us simply because we can’t stop time. Well, quit it. Quit focusing on the bad. Think about how wonderful it is to have them in our lives now. That’s the part you’ve forgotten over the years when you thought you had to keep people at a distance. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost’,” he finished with a smirk.   

“As long as I never lose you,” Barry said, stroking Len’s face and pulling him in for the hard, bruising kiss he’d been denied when Len answered his texts. “You are very wise for someone so young.”

“That’s why you hired me,” Len replied cheekily. “Which we should talk about, because if I’m going to be moving in…” He raised his eyebrows but didn’t wait for Barry to counter him.

Barry wouldn’t have. He couldn’t imagine Len living anywhere else.

“…you cleaning is going to become a regular thing. Real couples split the chores.”

 

XXXXX

 

EPILOGUE

 

Being a couple with Barry was never a chore.

Not after Len discovered Barry was a vampire.

Not after they had enemies in their midst.

Not after those enemies were defeated.

And not now, so many years later.

It was high time they’d moved to Coast City. Len had always thought it would be nice, a change of pace from Central, and he did like it, but he wasn’t as used to migration as Barry and needed time to adjust.

Walking hand in hand with Barry through the city streets beneath a bright full moon helped. So did having an entire evening to themselves.

Of course, Len should have expected they’d be interrupted. With the aid of modern technology, they often were, but when his phone buzzed in his pocket, he still answered to see who it was, while keeping his other hand clasped with Barry’s.

“Iris and Eddie are wondering about next weekend,” Len said. “Can you believe the twins are graduating from college already?”

“Certainly not,” Barry said with a snort. “Contrary to what you might think about my age, time passing does still surprise me. Will Sara and Ray be there?”

“That’s the plan. It’s been a while since we were all together.” Sara and Ray had eventually gotten to know the West-Thawnes too. It had been inevitable after they all sat vigil at Len’s bedside.

“You know,” Barry said, pulling Len closer against his side, “eventually they might start to notice—”

“You robbing the cradle there, pops?” a foreign voice said.

Len froze and felt Barry tense beside him. It was still strange and a little funny that these days people were talking to _Len_ when they said that.

“Wallet and any other valuables, now,” their ‘attacker’ demanded, faceless outside the sneer beneath his hood, but carrying no remorse in his voice or the hold on the gun in his hand. “You fags better hurry. I’ve killed for less with queers like you.”

Len smiled. He never thought words like that could make him smile, but he did now.

Barry asked him sometimes if he wished he’d turned him while he was younger. But honestly, Len liked the silver in his hair, and he liked even more how much Barry liked it.

“I suppose I am robbing the cradle a little,” Barry said, making the mugger scrunch his brow in confusion, “but age has never been an issue for us. Would you like this one?” He tilted his head at Len.

“I can start, but you know I prefer it when we share.”

“Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, dear?” Barry said with a smile.

“No,” Len answered in kind. “You haven’t seen mine yet.”

“ _Hey_ ,” the mugger called, since they ignored him to share a kiss.

Len let himself enjoy the press of Barry’s lips, before he turned, freeing his eyes to glow and his fangs to extend—

“What the _fuck_?”

…and then launching forward to sink his teeth into his prey and drink.

 

 

THE END


End file.
